Distance
by lacemonster
Summary: After years of reckless behavior, Wally is determined to prove himself as a serious hero who is as capable as his late mentor. When Nightwing suddenly asks for his help on a mission, Wally sees it a chance to make up for lost time. But as Wally struggles to carry Flash's legacy and escape from his old ways, Dick teaches him that there's a price to pay for redemption. [birdflash]


**Warnings** : explicit sexual content; inappropriate humor; canon-typical violence; canonical character death; also lesser warnings for fake comic book science, weird use of speedforce, and too many ginger jokes

 **Pairings** : Wally/Dick; past, background Barry/Iris; mentions of past relationships

 **Credits** : This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. This fanfiction was written and created by me

 **A/N** : As a forewarning, this story is canon-divergence. I took a lot of things from canon but puzzled it all around into one weird hodgepodge of a timeline. I wanted the story to take place during Wally's early days as the Flash, but I also wanted to keep some of the cooler things that happened later in the rest of the DC continuity. So for example, even though Wally is just starting out as Flash, I put him in JLA right away. Also, I have Dick as Nightwing already operating in Bludhaven at this time, and the story also takes place post-Knightfall saga.

For this fic, most of Wally's history is based on Post-Crisis, but I borrowed a lot from other continuities as well. One of the biggest things I changed was the timeframe in which Wally gives up Kid Flash. Instead of making him quit as Kid Flash right away in child years, like in Post-Crisis timeline, I have him give it up much later in life. In this story, he develops his power as a kid, works as Kid Flash for several years with the Teen Titans, and then realizes the speedforce is killing him in his late teen years, where he then retires for a few years before finally inheriting the cowl from Barry.

So basically, if you're going to go into this story, just consider it its own interpretation as opposed to sticking strictly within a certain canonical timeline. A lot of it is just slapped together so I could make a (hopefully) smoother fic that was more meaningful to the themes I wanted to address.

I'm not sure what else to say about this story. It's pretty tame in comparison to stories I've written in the past. Maybe some warnings for all the inappropriate ginger jokes? Also I edited this all on my own so it might be a mess.

I wrote this fic to test the waters of Wally/Dick. I have a lot of birdflash ideas in mind, some of which are pretty angsty, so I wanted to start with something light-hearted and fun and use it as a platform to explore the characters. This is my first time writing Wally so I really wanted to spend as much time with him as possible and realize what makes him tick. And while I've written Dick a million times in the past, this was my first time writing him from the perspective of someone who wasn't in the bat family, which made things super interesting! It was really fun to write him through Wally's perspective and it allowed me to play with the cooler, more mysterious aspects of Dick's personality. This story grew exponentially without me realizing it-I thought it was going to be half the size that it turned out to be! All in all, I had a ton of fun writing these two, and I can't wait to explore them again in the future.

As a head's up, this story starts with a flashback between Wally and Barry (when Wally is just a smol child) before going into the current timeline.

* * *

Wally was perfectly aware of the possibility that he was invading.

But Barry had told him that he could stop by whenever, and he gave him a key, so in the end, Wally had decided that it _wasn't_ invading.

He was in the middle of Barry's safehouse in Central City, several miles away from home. It was the first time he had entered the safehouse without Barry's presence. He didn't speed his way around the small building. Instead, he walked, taking in all of the details. He had zero access to all of the cool stuff—such as Barry's lab—and so he found himself moving toward an office space of sorts.

Barry's dedication to organization bordered on obsessive-compulsive. There was a shelf of all of his notes, compiled in identical binders, labeled with numbers down to the very decimal, all listed in numerical order. Wally picked one up, flipping it to a random page. Numbers, graphs, figures. Wally tried reading a paragraph of Barry's findings but the symbols and terms were so confusing that it hurt his brain trying to figure out what it _meant_.

The Flash was Wally's hero. But Barry Allen was nothing but a science nerd stuck in the bland midwest whose career _sounded_ cool but consisted mostly of filing paperwork. He was nice, sure, but _boring_. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Wally shoved the binder back into its place on the shelf.

Wally shoved his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, already bored but still not wanting to go back home. His eyes searched around the area, briefly wondering if Barry had any Flash mementos that Wally could maybe sneak through, when he noticed some things on Barry's desk. Wally wasn't sure why but he found himself inching toward the ordinary objects.

Wally picked up one of the picture frames that had been sitting next to the computer monitor. It was an old photo, the colors all blurry and desaturated. Wally thought it might have been a polaroid but it was hard to tell with the frame. In the photo was a blonde woman and a boy.

"Wally, what are you doing here?" a voice suddenly spoke.

"I wasn't touching anything!" Wally said, jumping in place. He dropped the frame back on the table, it landed with an audible _thump_. Wally sheepishly glanced over his shoulder at Barry, who stood in the doorway with a deadpanned expression.

Wally shrunk in place as Barry moved toward him—but the man didn't yell, he simply corrected the frame.

"Sorry," Wally said anyways.

"Hm? What for?"

"I don't know," Wally confessed. He felt uncomfortable.

"You were just curious," Barry said, shrugging. He looked up, easily looking over Wally's head. He moved toward the shelf, pushing the binder that Wally had disturbed back into its rightful place. The row returned to its rightful place: nice, neat, and without any protrusions. When Barry turned back around, he caught Wally staring at the photo again.

"Who is that?" Wally asked.

"That's me and my mom."

"Does your mom live in Central City too?"

"We used to live in Iowa, actually, but she died when I was little," Barry said, shoving his hands in his pockets—he was still dressed in his workclothes—and seemed a bit tense at sharing the information. Wally stopped in place, surprised by this news. He shrunk a little. Maybe dropping in was… a bad idea.

Wally wondered about Barry's words. He just naturally assumed everyone had parents. In Barry's case, he was old but he wasn't _that_ old.

"How'd she die?" Wally said, without first considering if it was polite to even ask.

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Barry said with an awkward smile. "She was killed."

"Oh," Wally said, feeling embarrassed. He regretted breaching onto such personal, and possibly painful, territory. More than that, he felt more than a little ashamed for rolling his eyes at Barry's things. Barry was inoffensive, almost achingly so, but it was only because he was a good guy. No one deserved to have their mom killed, especially Barry. "I'm sorry."

Barry's smile softened, this one feeling a little more genuine, and he ruffled Wally's hair. Beneath his overgrown red bangs, Wally caught a glimpse of the patch on Barry's sleeve. _Central City Police_.

"So is that why you're a cop?"

"A forensic scientist? Yeah. After Mom died, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life." Barry nodded toward him. "What about you?"

"Me?" Wally said, surprised.

"Yeah," Barry said, looking at him with an amused expression. "What do you wanna be when you grow up?"

"The Flash," Wally said at once.

Barry raised an eyebrow, looking at him wryly. "Then who am I going to be?"

Wally hadn't thought about it. He had just answered without thinking it through. Still, just as quick, he said, "Flash Senior."

Barry laughed. As soon as the laughter settled, he went back to business, asking, "So what are you doing here? Does Iris know you're away from Keystone?"

Barry might have said his aunt's name, but Wally knew the question really was: _do your parents know_?

"No," Wally said honestly. Barry tried to look neutral but Wally could catch the glimpse of concern in his eyes. He said quickly, "I was hoping we could do Flash stuff. You still need to help me practice going through walls."

Wally wasn't good at puppy-face, so his strategy involved a big, toothy grin—trying to seem as friendly as possible. He was certain the answer was 'no' when Barry looked thoughtful—but then the older speedster nodded, saying, "Yeah, we could do that."

Wally's heart leapt forward until Barry added, humming, "But _first_ , I need to put together some case files. Can you wait here?"

"Wait?" Wally said incredulously. "Can't you use the speedforce?"

"I think the chief would be a little suspicious if I suddenly compiled all these cases in five minutes. Besides, work like this can't be rushed. Details are important. If you go too fast, you miss out on all of the little things."

Wally couldn't help but sulk. Of course Barry wanted to _work_ first. Before Barry could give Wally instructions, there was a ringing sound from his pocket. Barry took out what looked like a cell phone—but Wally didn't recognize or see a brand anywhere on the phone. Barry answered it without even checking who it was.

"What's up?" A pause. Barry's face growing concerned. "Yeah, I'll put it on now."

Barry hung up and walked over to a TV in the corner of the room, flipping it on.

"What's going on?" Wally asked, inching over. He looked at the news report, watching a building as it tumbled on live television. The camera focused in on a reporter, who was speaking frantically about some type of invasion—

"I have to go," Barry said. Lightning quick, he tossed his jacket on the nearest surface and clicked on his Flash ring, the suit enveloping his body.

"Wait—I can help," Wally said, speaking quickly—at a speed that probably only Barry could hear. Barry took a second to stop, putting his hands on Wally's shoulders.

"This is Justice League stuff. There's no one I'd rather have help me out—but you're not ready for that. You should go back home."

"I don't want to go home," Wally said. Barry paused, looking at him, but he shook his head.

"This is dangerous, Wally. You could get hurt. There are lots of people who would be very worried if something happened to you."

Wally didn't focus on Barry's words. He was more focused on the situation at hand. "I can help! I'll prove it!"

"Wally," Barry said, in a serious voice. Wally looked at him, wondering if he was being scolded, but then Barry smiled. "You don't have to prove yourself to me. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone."

Wally watched as Barry headed toward the exit.

"Go back home—and lock up behind you!" Barry called back, and in a blink of an eye, he was gone.

 _Present Day_

When Wally ran, _really_ ran, he didn't feel any different. Even when he raced past cars, bullet trains, faster than the speed of sound—he always felt the same.

Wally never felt like he was going fast.

It was moreso that everything else around him slowed down.

People became near-statues, seemingly frozen midstep. The blink of an eye became agonizingly long. Everything, in its place, in the very moment Wally began to ran, was drawn out in the world's most exaggerated slow-motion.

Wally wasn't as fast as his mentor. Things still _moved_ for him—as opposed to Barry, whose speed was so great that he could encapsulate a single moment into a frame still. People could still see Wally as he went by, even though he was long gone before their minds could even register the blur that sped past them. As he ran down Main Street, one of the longest roads in Keystone City, rocketing down a single direction towards his target—he was spotted.

The criminal was turning toward his direction. Wally didn't slow down, moving past the speeding cars that were inching by. A little closer now, a blast from a gun sends blue and white crystals down the street towards him. In the line of fire, just barely, is a car. Gritting his teeth, Wally slams himself against the car, his suit protecting himself from the impact though it certainly bruised, and the momentum of his speed was just enough to budge the car in the right direction.

He kept running. The shot was closer now. He moved around it easily and then he saw it—a straight line towards his target, and he moved like a runningback with an opening. Faster now, everything seeming almost still for a second, the only sounds in his ears were the sounds of his own breathing—

Then finally, he skidded to a stop. The speedforce dropped and everything rushed back to life at once.

The car from earlier was bumped into the next lane. The shot from the cold gun projected forward and landed on the ground, where cars just barely slammed on the brakes in time. The sound hit him all at once—squealing tires, cars honking, crowds shouting, sneakers squeaking, dogs barking.

Wally straightened his back. "Cold, drop the gun."

He had meant to sound loud and clear—real bravado-like—but he had been woken from his nap when he heard about the commotion downtown, and his mouth had been dry for the entire time he rushed into his Flash uniform and ran over, and his voice cracked ungracefully.

" _What_?" Leonard Snart replied.

Wally's tactic was to pretend that he didn't sound like he was thirteen years old. He pointed a finger, giving his best Dad impression. "Cold, drop your gun. You're coming to jail."

"Who the hell are you?" Leonard said, sneering.

"Are you serious?" Wally said at first, but then he shook his head to himself. "I'm the _Flash_."

"I've seen the Flash. You're not the Flash. The Flash is _dead_. You're just some guy in red pajamas and yellow boots."

"Oh, come _on_ ," Wally said, hand dropping. "We've _met_ before. How many speedsters do you know?"

It took Cold a second. "Oh yeah. You're the kid. Didn't recognize you without the red moptop sticking out of your costume." Cold rubbed the top of his blue hood for emphasis, to which Wally scowled—why was it _always_ a ginger joke? "Should have known by the voice, though. All these years and you're still going through puberty? That speedforce-thing didn't do you many favors, I see."

Wally ignored Captain Cold's cackling. "You just threatened an entire bank full of people—and you're still wanted for the last robbery. I'm giving you a chance to come quietly with me to Belle Reve."

"Belle Reve?" Leonard repeated, stopping. "The prison for _metahumans_? Hate to break it to you, but I'm not a metahuman. I'm just a guy with a cold gun. Even Allen knew that."

"Well, you're right—I'm not Barry," Wally said. His voice grew firmer. "Which also means I'm not going to cut you—and any of the other rogues—the same slack that he did. _I'm_ Flash now. And this time you're going to a prison that you _won't_ break out of. You'll serve your full sentence, as you should."

Leonard snorted. "Sure thing, Fire Crotch. You still have to catch me first."

Wally rolled his eyes. He moved to take a step forward, ready to accelerate into the speed force—but one step and he was suddenly slipping, everything spinning around him at once, until he fell onto his back. The impact felt a little too familiar to long-suppressed memories of messing up the hockey games his father forced him to go to. Hard, cold, with a large dash of bitterness and shame to follow.

Wally ignored the backache—it'd heal quick enough—and struggled to pick himself up off the ice that Leonard must have laid on the ground while they were talking. Leonard was already on the move, the cold gun making a large blockade in the street behind him. Growling to himself, Wally carefully moved over the slippery ground.

He stared down the blockade—it looked pretty thick. Maybe a few feet deep.

He could totally vibrate through it.

Totally.

Wally mentally prepped himself, trying to hype himself up for it, but just as he slipped back into the speedforce and stepped toward the ice, sudden doubt spiked through him. Another memory, involving him and a wide-eyed Barry and a busted brick wall.

"Ah, _shit_ ," Wally hissed to himself. Shaking his head to himself, he turned back the other way and rerouted—running back down Main Street and taking the nearest left. He ran around the block—but when he turned his head around the corner, he was stopped by another blockade.

 _Keep running_.

Wally turned around the next block, the path clear. He rushed forward—Leonard was riding along the ice, the gun sculpting his path toward escape. Wally ran faster, trying to cut him off around the corner—

But just as he ran by, he noticed something. A kid, walking out of the alley. Eyes glued to a game and completely unaware. And Leonard, more preoccupied in his escape. The large blast from the gun had extended its reach, the frost growing dangerously near. Heart beating faster, Wally changed directions, running towards the kid and grabbing him, pulling him back into the alley. Just as he did so, the speedforce dropped, everything moving back in real time. The kid gasped, blinking in surprise, as he was suddenly pulled back several feet. Wally just set him down on the ground and looked back—the cold gun had frozen the space between the buildings into a layer of ice.

Wally turned to go through the other side of the alley—only to see a large brick wall as a dead end. Wally's eyes travelled up several stories.

"No, no, no," Wally muttered to himself. He quickly turned side to side—walls everywhere.

 _It's okay_. If he ran fast enough, he could build up enough momentum to run up the side of the building.

He turned back to the kid, who was looking at him wide-eyed and starstruck. He gently led the kid by the shoulders to a wall.

"Stand here and don't move," he said.

"Okay," the kid breathed, nodding frantically, as if Wally had just tasked him with saving the world. As if for a moment, just by sharing a presence, Wally had made him into something bigger than himself.

Wally backed up as far as he could—back nearly touching the wall of ice. Measuring the space between him and the opposite wall, he became aware that it was a short distance.

Barry definitely could have made this run. Easily.

Then again, Barry also could have easily vibrated himself through the ice.

And Barry had been much, much faster.

Wally pushed back the doubt. His eyes flickered to the side, making sure the boy wasn't standing in the way before he took off running. Sprinting as fast as he could, everything slowed down around him. He focused on nothing else but what was ahead of him.

The wall grew nearer and nearer.

He didn't feel any different.

But he had to trust in his powers. He had to trust that the speed was extraordinary enough to lift him up.

He took a step onto the building, his entire perspective turning. His body was sideways but he felt he was standing on normal ground, and he was no longer running toward a wall but running right toward the sky. Sun burning into his eyes. He kept going, the top growing nearer and nearer and then suddenly—

He was moving backwards.

Boots skidding across brick in a sound only he could hear.

The ledge growing distant.

Until he wasn't grounded on anything at all.

Until he was _falling_.

And suddenly it felt like everything was rushing past him at once, a mix of colors spinning by him. Faster and faster. And it was like his skate slipping on the ice all over again at the last hockey game his dad ever attended. Pressure sitting on the line and trying to go too fast and falling on his ass for it, gravity his punishment.

He tried to think of what Barry would do—how Barry might have shaken the fall and fixed this. But Barry was gone and he wasn't Barry and his concentration was shaky, the speedforce slipping. He could hear the air whistling past him and a child's scream and he knew the speedforce wasn't with him any longer.

He hit the ground hard.

He thought he would have preferred the ice.

The impact suit only absorbed so much. Everything flashed red and he felt a strike in the center of his back. Tasted the harsh copper of blood between his teeth. And everything finally came to a complete stop as he very suddenly and very quickly, blacked out.

* * *

There was chirping outside his window. Wally's eyes fluttered open. He propped himself up on his elbow, the plush mattress sinking beneath him. He caught the time on the clock. Midmorning. His eyes then travelled toward the tree branch hanging outside his window. A small finch hopped around the branch before taking off.

Wally sat up properly. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, a sudden thought hit him.

"Shit," he said, remembering, and he sped off to get dressed.

As he ran from his loft toward downtown, he suddenly caught a familiar face reflecting in a passing window. He slowed, moving into the coffeeshop to get a better look at the television. Everything around him resumed—people talking, cash registers ringing, blenders whirring. The news continued their report.

"—this event marks the _third_ bank robbery by the criminal known as Captain Cold," the reporter said. A blurry video clip, enlarged, pulled up on the screen. Wally stared incredulously, recognizing a red and yellow shape on the image. "In this video footage here, you can see the superhero known as _The Flash_ attempting to scale a building while in pursuit of the criminal, only to fall—"

The video was slowed down severely, showing Wally as he fell and hit the ground. Slowed down, the video still played rather quick—as if a regular person was falling in real time. But it was clear enough to show what was happening. Heat immediately rushed to Wally's face.

"Oh come _on_ ," he said with a growl to himself. He briefly wondered how the footage was even captured—when he then remembered that he had another person in the alley with him. The kid, who was holding an electronic when he needed to be saved. "Brat!"

A passing teenager stopped and flashed Wally an annoyed look before continuing.

A hand suddenly tapped on Wally's shoulder. Wally glanced back, seeing a man holding some frappucino that looked like pure sugar whipped up into a drink.

"Hey, you're the Flash, aren't you? The new one? William—William Wess?"

"That's not even close," Wally said, frowning.

"Oh, sorry, you look just like him. Must be the hair," the guy said before taking a loud sip.

"That's not what I— _ugh_ , I don't have time for this," Wally said, and the man didn't even have the opportunity to blink when Wally sped past him.

Wally stopped in the heart of downtown Keystone, entering an office building. He didn't bother to stop at the front desk, he knew exactly where to go. He walked up to the second floor, passing a hall of tiny offices. He slowed down, entering the door third on the right. He was in a tiny waiting room with a secretary, who glanced up. She instantly recognized him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. She glanced at her computer screen.

"Actually, you're just a smidge early. But Anna is helping another client. Take a seat."

Wally did as told. Sure enough, he had showed up a few minutes ahead of time. He heard a chime. He glanced up at the vintage cuckoo clock, striking the hour. The bird popped out, opening its beak and seemingly sticking out its tongue, before hiding back inside.

Anna, his financial advisor, loved novelties like this. Even her waiting room was decorated in old fashioned knickknacks.

"Can I ask you something?" a voice suddenly spoke. Wally glanced at the secretary, who had turned her monitor away to face him properly. Wally tensed at the question.

"Is it about the Cold thing?" Wally said.

"What?" she asked, raising a brow.

 _Oh_. "Uh, nevermind. What do you want to know?"

"I mean, your powers are like the old Flash's. Right?"

"Mostly. He was faster. And he could do more things, like vibrate through walls."

"You can't do that?"

"I mean, I can try—but I'm not good at phasing through things."

"But you can still control it."

"Control what?"

She leaned forward and in a hushed voice, almost like a whisper, she said, "The vibrating."

Wally raised an eyebrow.

There was a sudden click of a door. Wally looked up in time to see a worried-looking man rushing out of the office. Wally's eyes followed him then went back to the older woman standing by the doorway. Her older appearance made her look all the more wearier, and the sharp cuts of her suit made her almost intimidating.

Wally soon found himself sitting in a tiny office. The vinyl chair was stiff and seemed to be backed away too far from the desk.

Tutting to herself, Anna flipped through some pages. "Not good, Mr. West. Not good at all."

Wally felt like he was sitting in a principal's office and that wasn't exactly the way he wanted the conversation to start—but he had his suspicions that he was in trouble the moment when Anna called and requested to meet with him right away. He squirmed in the chair, the material making scrunching noises as he moved.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you this: since you first recruited my help, your excessive spending has smartly decreased. That being said, however, your finances have still dropped immensely in the past month."

"Yeah I—was meaning to talk to you about that," Wally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Since I took up the uniform, I had to invest a lot of money into the whole Flash business. Safehouses, equipments, lab materials—"

"Home theatres, travel expenses, nights out on the town, expensive clothes, parties, gifts—"

"I know," Wally said, face heating in humiliation. "I was younger then and the whole money thing was new to me—and when I got my powers back, I got a little reckless. But that's going to change now—my money is going to go towards Flash and that's it."

"You're sinking yourself," Anna said, sternly cutting him off. At that, Wally's stomach dropped.

"You're saying I'm broke?" Wally said, trying not to grimace.

"You're not broke, no. But if you continue down the road you're heading, spending at the rate you're spending with no income, the possibility of losing all of your earnings becomes much stronger." Anna stopped and gave him a measured look. "Mr. West, many people who win the lottery spend all of their money within a few years."

The big chair groaned as Wally sunk into the chair. His heart was beating a little quicker, trying to imagine such a situation. He was never rich, and the jackpot money was still new, and yet he still couldn't imagine going back to a middle-class lifestyle. If he did, being the Flash would become a lot more difficult. Maybe Barry could have pulled it off—but Wally had zero interest in joining Keystone police.

"I don't want that."

"No, you don't," she said flatly. "I spoke with your accountant and investor. Our first suggestion is to start by selling your house and moving into a smaller place, immediately."

"The house can go," Wally said. "I didn't want it—it was supposed to go to my parents—"Wally quickly changed his words"—I spend most of my time in my loft."

"We'll discuss a budget. Next comes your involvement in different charities—while honorable, you need to consider what's in your budget. I suggest you start putting some of this money towards investments instead—"

"Which charities?"

"Well the largest donations all go toward Keystone's housing development funds—"

"I can't cut back on that," Wally said. Barry almost never kept the money that was awarded to him as Flash. Wally found himself parroting his reasoning. "A lot of criminals cause physical damage to properties—it'd be wrong if Flash just spent all of his time fighting—"

"Yes, but then you also have the childrens' art programs—"

"That was my aunt's charity, she helped fundraise for them—"

"Well, which is it?" she said, looking up at him expectantly. "Housing or the arts?"

"I have to choose?" Wally said, taken aback.

"You could continue to donate to both. But the amount of your sponsorship would need to be cut back significantly."

Wally ran his hand through his hair. "I—okay, yeah, let's do that."

"And then there's your… questionably high food bills."

"My metabolism burns faster when I'm the Flash," Wally said.

"These are all restaurant bills," she said, frowning.

Sheepishly, Wally tried to explain, "It takes time to cook. And going faster to make all those meals means I need to spend _more_ energy to cook them quick enough. Cooking the meals by myself is counterproductive." When the advisor continued to look at him, Wally sighed. "Okay, there are these food bars designed to curb my hunger and sustain myself—they taste awful but I'll start taking them more."

Anna scratched down notes of their conversation. When her pen finally came to a stop, she straightened her back and said, "Now, for a longterm solution, it would be best to find a source of income."

"I can't," Wally said. At this, he had to put the foot down. "My time is all tied up in my work as the Flash."

"We're not asking you to pick up a 9 to 5. But at some point, you'll have to do business that isn't superhero related. You're allowing your vigilante lifestyle to interfere with you having a financially stable and secure life," she said, sighing heavily.

"I know."

"But surely you see the importance of having a balance?" she said. At that, Wally finally went quiet. "If you continue to invest this much money into your superhero affairs, you could easily ruin your life. And while being a superhero is important, it's also _costing_ you. I go back to my earlier statement: you need to make money for yourself."

"I mean, I have a degree. But I can't imagine finding anything flexible with the type of life I lead."

"Again, we're not asking that of you. But perhaps you could find some more ways to make the Flash profitable."

At that, Wally paused. "You want me to _advertise_ myself?"

"Why not? People know who you are. They'd easily recognize you in commercials… it's no different than olympic athletes being on cereal boxes."

"It is different. Athletes are paid for their talent. But being paid as a hero—that feels like selling out," Wally said at once. He shook his head to himself. "I mean, that's crazy. You might see a hero on TV but usually it's to talk about a charity or a cause. Being a hero isn't about _making money_."

Anna adjusted her lapels. "It was just a suggestion, Mr. West. I'm sure you'll come up with something."

Wally ended up leaving the office with a folder tucked under his arm and a cloud above his head. As he exited the building, his gaze fell on a cop car that quietly drove down the street. He watched, almost sighing. He would never understand how Barry managed to do it all.

"Wally."

Wally snapped out of his thoughts. He almost thought he imagined the whisper—but the voice was all too familiar. He glanced around, trying to find the source.

" _Ahem_."

Wally turned his head to his right. At first he only saw the potted tree—but then he peeked through the spaces between the branches, spotting a person sitting on the bench with a _Central City Diamonds_ cap, the brim pulled low to shadow over the face.

Wally took a step back. Was he going nuts? He whispered back, perhaps not quietly enough, "Dick?"

A heavy sigh. "I'm trying to be subtle. The least you could do is not throw my name around."

Wally blinked twice. He hadn't seen Dick in months, which was normal for them, but for him to suddenly show up in _Keystone_ of all places…

He rubbed his eyes, trying to get over his dumbfoundedness long enough to return to the matter at hand.

" _Subtle_?" Wally said. He scoffed a little. "You're wearing a Diamonds hat in _Keystone._ You stand out like a sore thumb. You might as well wear a 'kick me' sign."

"That's how a disguise works. The best disguise is familiar but not _too_ familiar."

"What's with the look anyways?" Wally said, trying to pull the branches out of the way to talk to Dick more easily. He was taken aback when Dick forcefully shoved the branches back in place, the leaves shaking with a sound.

"Everyone knows you're the Flash," Dick said, whispering sharply. "I can't be seen with you."

"But… _why_?"

"Because it doesn't take much to connect Wally West, the _Flash_ , to Dick Grayson."

Wally rolled his eyes. "Talking to a tree isn't making us seem any less suspicious."

"Well, if you learned how to throw your voice like I _tried_ to teach you, you would look normal right now. Besides, this won't take long." In a softer voice, Dick asked, "How's the hero thing working out for you? I… saw the news."

Wally's face burned. He kept replaying the news clip of him falling and crashing into the ground, over and over. "I just need to get back in the swing of things. I'm out of practice and I went in a bit over my head, I'll admit it. But it won't happen again!"

"I know Jay and Ira okay'd you but… I've _seen_ you make runs like that a thousand times. That crash was… brutal. You sure you're ready to get back into this?"

Wally stopped, shocked by Dick's words.

"And I've seen _you_ run into walls of bullets with only short-shorts and a flimsy cape for protection, and _you_ don't have accelerated healing," Wally said. He didn't feel defensive—just confused. Wally ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated. "Dick, what is this _really_ about? I haven't seen you in-person since the funeral, and you're not the type to fly in from halfway across the country just to ask if I'm _okay_."

Wally was getting sick of talking to a damned _tree_. He wanted to see his friend. He huffed and walked around, facing Dick, who didn't seem at all surprised. In fact, Dick already seemed to be looking up in Wally's direction, most of his expression hidden under a hat and sunglasses, but a quiet smile on his face told all.

" _Well_ ," he said, elongating the word. "I _might_ need something…"

 _Of course_ , Wally thought at once, almost rolling his eyes. "Uh-huh. And let me guess: it's something mission-related?"

"I mean, you are back in action."

"Well, what is it—"Wally started but then suddenly Dick pulled his hat back in place, obscuring his face, and he leaned away from Wally. Wally tilted his head, confused by the sudden defensiveness, but then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced back, saw some woman around his age. Her face was beaming.

"You're the Flash, aren't you?" she said. "Can I take a picture with you?"

Wally felt annoyed. "I'm talking to my—"

Dick cleared his throat loudly. Wally stopped, remembering.

"I'm not busy," Wally corrected quickly. Clearing his throat, he said more casually, "We can take one."

"Great!" she said, taking out her phone. She chattered nervously as she pulled up the camera but Wally wasn't really paying attention. Wally looked into the camera, smiling and waving awkwardly as she snapped a selfie of the two of them. "Thank you so much!"

"Yeah," he said simply, ready to turn back to Dick—but he couldn't, because the woman was still watching. She held out her hand.

"I'm Kim."

"Okay," Wally said.

He heard Dick groan behind him and Wally almost looked back but he stopped himself.

They both stood there awkwardly for a moment. Wally tried to look friendly but he didn't understand why she was still there, looking at him expectantly.

Face red and laughing, she finally said, "Well, I guess I'll see you around. Maybe."

Then she ran off. Wally heard a long sigh and looked back at Dick, who lowered his glasses just low enough to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Wow," Dick said. "That was worse than that time Roy missed that tire."

"You mean the tire on that parked truck that was holding all those attack droids?" As the memory ran through his head, Wally found his grin getting wider. "Which then _activated_ the attack droids?"

"Exactly that."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I mean you had a perfect shot lined up and you botched it so bad it _hurt_."

"What, you mean _her_? She just wanted a selfie with _Flash_." Grumbling, he added, "Probably so she could post it online and laugh about the Captain Cold thing with all of her internet friends."

"No. She was lovestruck."

"Lies," Wally said at once, but then his mind briefly travelled to Anna's secretary. Even so, he went on, "Even as Kid Flash, I was never _that_ type of popular."

"Because you were just a teenager back then. Now you've grown out of your scaly shorts, so to speak," Dick said with a small smirk. "People love to crawl over superheroes, the same way they're infatuated with celebrities."

"Age has nothing to do with it! Back then, you had girls crawling all over you, even _with_ scaly shorts!"

"I had _a_ girl crawling over me," Dick corrected.

"No," Wally said, insistent. "There were several."

"Only one that mattered."

"Point is, it was _never_ like this before."

"I'm obviously teasing you, Wally." Wally didn't realize how worked up he was until that moment. "With your identity public, dating a civilian would probably be like dating a fan, which I'm pretty sure isn't even ethical—much less a good idea. And face it, you had plenty of girls as Kid Flash—just none that ever stuck around for more than two weeks, mostly for reasons that were your fault."

"Thanks," Wally said dryly.

"I'm just hoping with the return of your powers, you don't fall back into your old habits."

"I had my fun—for awhile. I'm all business now."

"Sure you are," Dick said, the long smirk returning to him. "So your public identity has _zero_ correlation to your ego?" Dick's head tilted back, seeming to be in thought. "Can't imagine what it's like to be a _public_ hero. Seems like a strange and scary life, to be honest."

"Says the guy who won't even talk to his friends without wearing a silly disguise and hiding behind a plant." Wally changed the subject. "What do you want?"

"That's right, enough chattering. You're _all business_ now." Dick reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out his phone. He clicked a few buttons and then handed it to Wally. "Do you recognize this?"

Wally took the phone. He glanced at the photographed building pulled up on the screen. "It's the Walker and Bell research lab in Central City. They're not affiliated with S.T.A.R. so I can't say I know all of their work, but I still recognize it. They do a lot of research on metahumans."

"I need something from inside of it—but their security is pretty tight. I could use some help, especially from a local hero."

At that, Wally looked up at Dick. "You… want my help?"

" _Now_ you're surprised?"

"I mean, I figured you needed information—but I didn't think you'd be pulling me along."

Most of Wally's best memories involved working with Dick—and yet, he couldn't recall the last time they were side by side.

It had to have been before he finished school. Before he was rich. Before the speedforce came back. Back when he was just Kid Flash, a nobody charading as a hero, obsessed with the things he convinced himself he couldn't have, like girls and fame and money.

Years ago.

"I can't do it alone," Dick said. "I want to disable their cameras and I need someone fast to get in, grab the materials, and leave."

"What materials?"

At that, Dick's expression grew stern. "Something dangerous. That's all I can say here."

"Why not ask your bat friends? Or Roy or Donna or Garth? Even without superspeed, any of them could do it as well as me."

"I want _your_ help."

Four words that Wally never thought he'd hear—much less out of Dick's mouth. It was strangely humbling but the whole situation was just odd. Wally had his reservations.

"I'd love to help but I'm on the Justice League now. And between that and Captain Cold on the loose and all of these other things…" Wally trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to be that guy that bites off more than he can chew. Not anymore."

Wally couldn't see Dick's eyes under the darkened lenses—he wondered if Dick looked as disappointed as Wally thought he must have been.

"Figured it was worth asking," was all Dick said, and he held out his hand.

Wally glanced once more at the phone before handing it over—and stopped when he noticed the lockscreen.

"...why do you have Bruce on your background?" he asked, staring at the candid photo of Bruce, who appeared to be staring grimly at a fishtank in some indiscernible location.

"My background is just a slideshow of my photo gallery."

True enough, the photo changed. But the next one was also of Bruce, also candid, appearing to be looking off into the distance with a fork in his hand and his cheeks full. Wally just shook his head, remembering more than a few headache-inducing conversations involving a tiny Robin talking obsessively over Batman and nothing else. Some things never changed.

"Honestly, I did want to check on you," Dick said, pocketing his phone, his gaze averted. Wally took a step back, giving Dick room to get off the bench. Dick glanced at him, hands shoved into his sweatshirt pocket. Dick was shorter than him but it still felt surprising to see how tall he had grown. It was like Wally was still expecting tiny Robin—the one that was always disappearing from the sights of his teammates. Dick sighed and said, "I'm not too worried about you. I know you'll do fine. It's just that sometimes, when I work with the rest of _them_ , I get this really strong nostalgia. Seeing you on the news, falling on your ass—"Dick grinned a little at that"—well, it gave me the same feeling."

There was no need to explain the _them_ that Dick was referring to.

Admittedly, Wally even knew the feeling Dick was describing. Wally had felt it for years—every news story that popped on the screen before him, ranging from his late teens to just a few months ago. Whether it was in his parents' home or in his tiny dorm room on campus—whenever Wally saw the brightly colored capes and emblems decorating televisions and computer monitors and front pages, he felt it. That feeling of nostalgia.

Bittersweet nostalgia.

"Thanks," Wally said with an air of sarcasm, because he couldn't let Dick get away with his _falling_ comment.

"I don't want to be that person who just shows up around holidays and funerals," Dick said after a moment.

Dick had been that person for awhile now. Still, Wally shrugged it off. "You're too busy working—on the other side of the country, no less."

"Right," Dick said. "And I should be getting back to work. I'll see you around, hopefully sooner than the last time."

It felt weird watching him go. Wally felt strange, like he had disappointed Dick somehow. That he let him down.

Keeping in touch with all of the Titans had been spotty ever since Wally had to give up being Kid Flash. Part of Wally knew it was because they were all busy with their own lives—but the other part of Wally found it too internally difficult to talk to them. It felt like Kid Flash and Wally West were two separate people—and when he had to give up being Kid Flash, the part of his life connected to the Teen Titans had been severed too.

"Dick," he said, calling his name without thinking about it. Dick glanced back at him, Wally's image reflected in the lenses of the sunglasses, and Wally's throat suddenly turned dry. He shrugged a little and said, "I mean—maybe next time, if you need help with anything…"

Dick shrugged lazily, a carefree smile on his face. "Yeah. I know where to find you."

After a moment, Wally added, "Do you think Roy still remembers? About the truck, I mean."

"You kidding?" Dick said, grinning. "I never let him live it down."

* * *

Standing side by side with any members of the Justice League was humbling—but it was specifically staring at the backs of Wonder Woman, Batman, and Aquaman, that Wally's feeling of displacement lingered.

Wally didn't foresee the oncoming chunk of concrete that was being tossed in his direction. He was yanked by a golden lasso, pulled into safety. He should have been surprised that his teammate reacted quicker than him—but if he had learned anything from past experiences, Amazons had a tendency to do the unexpected rather effortlessly.

"Are you alright?" Diana asked.

"I'm not cut out for this," he blurted out. Diana raised one graceful eyebrow at him and, almost sympathetically, removed the Lasso of Truth. Red-faced, he cleared his throat and said, "Uh, thanks."

Diana put a hand on his shoulder. Part of Wally felt like a child being comforted, but Diana's warm voice helped ebb his insecurities. "The Justice League works as a team. We always watch out for each other. That's all."

 _Flash_ , a voice spoke inside Wally's head. Bruce's thoughts, relayed through J'onn's telepathy. _I need you two blocks south. A skyscraper is coming down and there are still people on the streets._

 _Already here_ , Wally responded a second later. He looked up, the toppling skyscraper looming in on him. He glanced around, finding mostly emergency respondents in the area. He threw a police officer on his back and wrapped around the building, finding a safe spot to set them down.

In the speedforce, the tremors in the ground didn't feel noticeable. The quakes were slowed down significantly, and the rumbling felt like nothing underneath the soles of his boots which were specially designed for impact. He didn't allow the earth to stop him from running. He took as many people as he could, dragging them away.

He was sweating from the effort of carrying every person out of the area. But the skyscraper was halfway down and he couldn't afford to give up now.

So he kept running and running and running.

Running until it hurt.

By the time he made it to the last few people, his heart was racing. The shadow was on them. Broken pieces of glass speckled the air, glittering underneath the sun.

When he finally got to the last person, the building was just a few feet above his head. Slowly inching toward him. He finally got out of range, ducking underneath the corner of the skyscraper on the last stretch. His knees finally buckled, at the feet of the people he had just saved. The noises of the city resumed. He heard nearby voices, belonging to the people who were screaming when Wally had picked them up, and their voices quickly died out at the startling revelation that they were not where they were a moment ago. Then, a loud crash. As the building came down, a cloud of dust blinded them all.

Not even a few moments later, another gust came—but this one blew all the smoke and tiny debris away. Wally had lowered the visors on his suit in time, protecting his eyes, but he couldn't stop the inhale of dust. He was on the ground, coughing and confused. The second gust that came in had went against the direction of the wind, making Wally question its source. His suspicions were confirmed by a single voice.

"Nice work."

Wally wiped his face, peering up at Superman.

Being face to face with Superman was a sight he still wasn't used to—and being _complimented_ by Superman felt like something he would _never_ get used to.

"Where are the others?" Wally asked, when he saw no one accompanying him.

Clark seemed amused by the question. "Where you last saw them."

Wally felt like he had ran for a decade. He felt a familiar ache in his muscles and a pit in his stomach. He rolled over onto the ground, ignoring the scraps that were digging into his back. "I'm wiped."

"We still need to place these people in a proper safety area. It's only a matter of time before another building collapses."

"Right," Wally said, forcing himself to sit up. He reached into one of the small pockets sewn into his uniform, pulling out a food bar that would prevent him from wasting away. He didn't breathe through his nose as he chewed it, trying his best not to taste it. He hated eating them but it helped take away the pain that was beginning to form in his stomach. He might have been able to run a little longer without having to eat—but even an inkling of the pain was all too familiar of the illness that forced him into retirement as Kid Flash, and curbing the feeling helped get rid of his anxieties.

Superman could keep up with Flash in terms of speed. After they had quickly moved everyone from the area, Wally found himself asking, "Don't you ever get tired?"

"Tired of giant mole-like creatures causing what appears to be natural disasters? Sure."

A joke. But Wally had to say anyways, "Didn't you stop a tower from collapsing before heading this way?"

Wally wasn't sure how much a _building_ weighed but he imagined the number wasn't anything to laugh at.

Clark opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by an approaching voice.

"If this is too difficult for you, you could always sit out."

For a guy who was supposedly stiff as a board, Bruce seemed strangely expertised in the art of mocking. Wally glanced over his shoulder, just in time for Bruce to come out of the shadows. Even with the glass and rubble beneath his feet, his footsteps were silent. Wally felt himself bristle at the condescending tone.

Wally knew better than to argue with Bruce. But unwilling to roll over, Wally still said, "It's just been a long day."

"It's been an even longer day for people who don't have your abilities."

"Does that mean you're tuckered out too?" Wally quipped, but he instantly regretted it when Batman, who was built like a one-man SWAT team, gave him a sharp look. Superspeed or not, Wally was convinced Batman could find a way to kick his ass—and he probably wouldn't hesitate to do it either.

"Maybe we could all use a nap," Clark interceded and if Wally didn't know any better, he'd say Clark's tone was almost dry.

Bruce ignored Clark, gaze fixed on Wally. "If this is too much work for you, then feel free to go back to Keystone."

Wally's heart raced, a dull anger crawling its way up through his chest. "I'm not a quitter."

"Then don't act like it."

"Batman—"Clark started, trying to gently intercede, but Wally was already cutting in.

"I followed your orders _and_ saved all these people from getting pancaked by a skyscraper. So save your criticisms."

"My criticisms have nothing to do with your actions and everything to do with your _attitude_ ," Bruce said, words spoken as meticulously and firmly as ever, but his voice just a tad sharper.

 _Attitude_? Wally threw his hands in the air. "You started it!"

"Allen understood discipline and perseverance. I can't recall ever hearing him _whine_ , much less _brag_ about doing his job." Wally started to argue, to insist that he never bragged, but Bruce spoke over him. "Even at the end, Allen was willing to give everything away to save the world. If you're going to be the Flash—if you're going to be a part of this _team_ —I'm going to hold you to the same standards."

Wally stared at him in disbelief, a chilled rage running over him.

"I don't appreciate you hanging his death over me," he said. "He was family. No one felt his sacrifice more than me."

"Enough already," Clark said firmly. "We still have a lot of work to do. I think we can all agree that squabbling doesn't get anything done. This particular earthquake may have passed but Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern are still searching for the culprits and there are still civilians who could be trapped or in danger."

"Whatever," Wally muttered, and he ran off as quick as he could to go see who needed help elsewhere.

He tried his best not to look back.

* * *

After a long day of running to one side of the country and cleaning up after earthquakes caused by giant mole aliens, Wally was sent home. But instead of stopping in Keystone, he found himself in Central City.

He looked like a mess but it was a late night and while downtown never rested, the traffic was quiet, with just occasional cars driving through the area, and not a single person on the streets to stop him for selfies or all too personal questions.

He stopped at the Flash Museum, before the matching Jay and Barry monuments. Laid by Barry's statue were wreaths and cards. Wally inched forward, noticing a folded paper stuck between the panels of the pedestal. He pried it out, opening and holding it above the display lights to take a look.

 _THANK YOU_ , it said in big letters, surrounded by crayon drawings. Wally's eyes lingered on the smiling Flash.

 _Sorry I'm late!_

 _Barry, this is Wally. My nephew._

 _Nice to meet you, kid_.

Wally smiled a little, memories coming back to him.

 _Iris, I hate to break it to you, but your fiancé is a total bore._

 _Alright, twerp. When you get engaged I'll be sure to call_ your _fiancé boring_.

Fingers traced over waxy yellow and purple lightning bolts. A distant crack of lightning seemed to sound in his ears, as clear as day.

 _Wally, you're… you're okay._

Wally folded the piece of paper back up, tucking it back in place.

Boring Barry Allen.

He lived the life Wally had always dreamed of, that no one else knew about.

And for what, in retrospect, felt like a brief moment in time, he had shared that life with Wally.

 _Come on, you're supposed to help me!_

 _Breathe, kid. You're already fast. Why do you need to be faster?_

 _I'm the one that slows us down on all of the missions._

 _Wally, you've saved my life on so many occasions. I'm sure your teammates don't think that you're slowing them down, or the people you've helped._

 _You can run faster and phase through walls, so why can't I?_

 _Stop measuring yourself to me, Wally. That's not how you want to spend your life._

The life no one else knew.

 _I will tell her. When the time is right._

 _But if she knew you were the Flash, she'd love you even more._

 _I don't want her to love the Flash. I want her to love Barry Allen_.

Wally still remembered when his aunt learned the truth. When she was face to face with the Flash, and all she could say was:

 _Barry_.

It was never about Barry's abilities. It was never about the things he could do, the speeds he could run, the impossibilities he could challenge. The sacrifices he made.

It was never about Flash.

The thing that made Barry Allen so special was that he was just another guy.

Just a good, kind hearted, guy.

 _Between Iris and my powers being gone, I don't even know who I am anymore. Who are_ we _, anymore?_

 _This isn't the end, kid. I promise you that. We're still family. I'm always going to be here for you._

Wally sighed heavily.

It was a long day and he was getting too mopey.

His head was too wrapped up in the past.

It was already late and he needed to rest. He needed to get back home. Needed to get back to Keystone.

To hang out with his… potted plant.

He paused, a thought occurring to him. He took the time to make a phone call.

* * *

Wally waited anxiously in place, fingers drumming on the bottom of his shoe.

"Hey, you're early for once."

Wally jumped, getting up from his seat on the ground and quickly spinning in the direction of the unexpected voice. He found nothing but shadows.

"This way."

Wally looked around, confused, before his eyes finally travelled upwards. Sitting on top of a parked shipping truck, boots dangling off the edge, Nightwing waved. Wally's shoulders finally relaxed, the tension releasing from his body.

"Dude, come on. Can't you just say hello?"

Dick raised an eyebrow, his domino mask lifting with it. Innocently, he said, "But I did."

Wally supposed he was telling the truth. Still, Wally stammered, "Just—get down from there."

Dick easily hopped off and landed safely in the ground in one fluid motion. Wally blinked.

It was such a simple movement but even when Dick was at his most effortless, he appeared graceful. Dick's movements were always kind of stunning—back in the days of the Titans, watching Dick was like being in the front row seat of a performance. After missions, there were many whispered conversations behind Dick's back about something _amazing_ he had done that night.

Wally had seen far more extravagant things from Dick in his lifetime. There were moves that Dick had done that were ingrained in his memory for the simple virtue of being _cool_. But he found himself speechless anyways because it had been years since he had seen Dick in uniform, much less _moving_ in uniform. It wasn't something he had ever expected to see again. He didn't realize how much he actually _missed_ it.

"What?" Dick said, and Wally realized that he probably stared, dumbfounded, for much too long.

Wally scrambled for an excuse. "Uh, your uniform is different."

At that, the corner of Dick's mouth lifted. "Pretty sure it's the same one I've used for months now. _Yours_ is the one that's different. No hair? But how else will you get that awesome blowdry effect when you run?"

Wally ran a hand over the top of his cowl, feeling the smooth layer of fabric. "I wanted my uniform to be as close to Barry's as possible. Plus, this way, no ginger taunts."

"All of you redheads are too self-conscious about your hair," Dick said with an almost mournful sigh. "If I could go back in time and burn Speedy's hat, I would."

"If you were stereotyped as having no soul, you'd hide your hair too."

Dick left it at that, his head turning toward the gate. It was the Walker and Bell research facility that Nightwing had been keeping his eye on. Dick's fingertips touched the side of his mask, where Wally just now noticed tiny buttons. Dick pressed on one, looking.

"Their security cameras are pretty intricate—so I'll need you to run in, grab the materials, and get out, while I keep an eye on the cameras. The entrances should be locked and alarmed—with the exception of the front door, which is being guarded by two security officers. But at your speed, you should be able to run right past them without them seeing."

"What exactly am I grabbing?"

"All of their materials are shipped in these steel cases. It arrived a few days ago—but the head researcher is out of town. It should still be set aside somewhere in their lab, untouched otherwise. Look for a label dated April 30th."

" _Okay_ ," Wally said slowly, not feeling too confident. But he supposed at his speed, he could turn the entire lab upside down.

"If you're confused, I'm sure you can just run back out and ask," Dick said.

"Who said I was confused?"

"Your face said it for you," Dick said. Before Wally could quip back, Dick continued, "Anyways, first thing's first. I need to set up this jammer to take out the security cameras."

Wally just now noticed the device in Dick's hand. Wait, was he always holding that, or…

"I'm going to set it up on that roof," Dick said, pointing at what seemed to be a shipping dock. "It's close enough to the facility without the possibility of me getting caught. Meet me there?"

"I don't really feel like waiting," Wally said dismissively. "I'll just follow."

Dick made a face. "Okay, _Fastest Man Alive_. Suit yourself."

Dick was pretty fast, in his own right. Wally followed him along the concrete walls that blocked off the facility. Keeping pace behind Dick, Wally noticed that the blue markings of Dick's uniform extended to his back. He never knew that before.

"It's weird without the cape," Wally said.

"I never liked the cape," Dick said with a shrug.

Suddenly, a memory struck Wally. With a sly grin, he said, "Hey. Remember that time with Puppeteer—"

"We're _not_ going there."

"He accidentally strung you up by your cape instead of your vest—"

"Technically, I saved us all. So you're welcome."

Wally learned that the grappling line was hidden in Dick's bracer—though that still didn't explain where the jammer magically appeared—and he ran up the side of the wall to meet Dick at the top.

"Don't fall this time," Dick lightly teased, as Wally tried to balance himself at the top of the narrow wall.

" _Hey_ ," Wally started, eyes narrowing, but Dick was already swinging toward the rooftop across the courtyard. Wally scowled. Dick was always one step ahead of him.

Wally hopped down, running across the yard and up to the top of the building… to find no Dick, or even a grappling hook mark, for that matter.

"What the hell?" Wally said, looking around. Then he looked over the edge of the building, saw that Dick was already at the top of the shipping dock. He was kneeling, messing around with his device.

Heat rising to his face, Wally quickly moved onto the next rooftop.

"Where'd you go?" Dick said.

"I was just checking the area—making sure no one else was around," Wally said quickly. Too quickly?

Dick looked over his shoulder at him, smirking. "You thought I was still over there, didn't you?"

"Are you done yet?" Wally said, ignoring the heat on his face.

"Almost," Dick said, playing with some buttons. There was a subtle clicking sound. "Got it. Cameras are out. Remember what I told you?"

"Already on it."

Wally raced through the front door, speeding past the guards. He searched every room of the small facility. To his surprise, there were some guards standing watch inside of the building.

"What?" Wally murmured, heart skipping when he saw their uniforms.

Afraid to stay in place for too long, lest he risk being seen, he wrapped around the nearest corner and looked.

It wasn't just the military garb. It was also their intricate looking guns, likely intended for any possible metahuman thieves. Walker and Bell was never a military based research facility. Wally frowned. These materials were far more important than he assumed.

Dick did say he was chasing after something dangerous but…

Wally couldn't afford to think of it. He kept looking because there was no way he could stop now. He figured if he was running into more guards, that only meant he was getting warmer to his target.

Triumphantly, he found a steel case in a locked room, dated. He brought it back outside, where Dick still had his eye on the jammer.

"Welcome back. It took you about five minutes to search the whole place."

"Might have made it back faster but I saw something strange," Wally said, handing over the case.

"We'll have to walk and talk," Dick said, packing up his stuff. "I saw some guards patrolling the courtyard."

"So you did see," Wally said, surprised. "This place is guarded by military. You do realize that military have authorization to shoot metahumans that trespass, right? And just by running around with me, you could be mistaken for—"

"I'm well aware, which is why we need to skedaddle," Dick said, shooting a grappling line across the yard. He swung across—but as he did so, Wally caught a flicker in his peripherals.

"Robin!" Wally shouted, but when the fireball hit the line, Dick was already prepared—flipping through the air and landing on his feet. He didn't skip a beat, immediately breaking into a sprint and running for cover. Wally chased after, quickly catching up. He scooped Dick up, carrying him over the fence.

When Wally finally stopped and set him down, Dick raised a brow at him. "Did you just—"

"Look, I know what I said!" Wally said, facepalming. "You didn't tell me there'd be military and fire slinging metahumans guarding this place!"

"I suspected but I didn't _know_. Anyways, we need to get out of here in case they try to scorch us again."

Sure enough, Wally could hear the gates opening from far away. Wally cursed under his breath and went to grab Dick again but the vigilante had another grappling line in his other bracer. He was already heading toward a rooftop across the street. Wally met him at the top and they watched as the circle of guards searched the area. Wally didn't realize how fast his heart was racing.

"Good thing you contacted me before I attempted that mission on my own," Dick said, sighing.

"On your own?!"

Dick laughed unexpectedly. "Come on, things didn't turn out so bad. It was kind of exciting, right?"

"You have one strange idea of a good time," Wally said, shaking his head. But he could feel what Dick was talking about. It wasn't often that Wally snuck around—he understood the rush that Dick mentioned. The quickened pulse and breathlessness. He was right—it had been exciting. "It wasn't just tonight. You do this all the time. Swinging around on rooftops and sneaking around at night. All on your own—with no superpowers, no accelerated healing! How are you not terrified?"

"It sort of comes with being a hero, doesn't it?" Dick eyed him closely, this knowing smile on his face. "It's not all so bad. You feel the same when you're on your missions, don't you? That adrenaline rush. It makes up for all of the scary things—yeah, the job is dangerous, but nowadays, I don't think I'd feel alive without a little bit of thrill."

"Yeah, but how often do you reach that rush?" Wally asked.

"Every night," Dick said simply.

Wally believed him.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Wally said, deadpanned. "I'm the _only_ one who showed up in a suit?"

Wally was standing in a city hall conference room—not in the same city he helped during its mole creature invasion, for that one had its hall destroyed, but in a neighboring city that had gone unscathed—surrounded by members of the Justice League. His gaze was particularly focused on Batman, who was still dressed as a bat, and Superman, who was dressed as… well, Superman.

"I thought the memo was to dress formally," Wally said, ears hot. He was so embarrassed he was already calculating how much time it would take to get back to Keystone and retrieve his Flash ring back from Jay—assuming Jay was even finished repairing and making modifications to the suit. All Wally had on him was his old ring—with his uniform from his Kid Flash days, which he was saving only for the most dire of emergencies.

"That was the memo. But Batman and I have identities we'd like to protect."

"Yeah but if I had known we were all going to wear uniforms _anyways_ , I would have just worn mine," Wally said. He never thought wearing slacks would be more humiliating than bright red tights.

"I'm not wearing my uniform," Diana pointed out.

"You're wearing a cape!" Wally protested, gesturing to Diana's floor length, red, blue and gold ensemble.

"Well, yes," Diana said, face turning slightly pink. "But these are my ambassador robes."

"I'm also not wearing my uniform," Arthur said.

"You're wearing battle armor!"

"Traditional Atlantean garb," Arthur corrected.

"You have a deep sea crabshell on your shoulder and I _still_ look like the odd one out."

"Would you feel better if I changed?" J'onn said, morphing his… martian clothing or _whatever_ he was wearing... into a suit.

"I don't need your pity wardrobe change!" Wally said, throwing his hands in the air. But after a moment of consideration, he murmured, "But yes, it does make me feel better."

An attendant entered the conference room. "The press will be here in a moment to watch the mayor give the Justice League the key to the city. After a brief chat with the press, you'll exit out that door where I'll lead you to the banquet."

"Thank you," J'onn said pleasantly, and the attendant shuffled out.

"Will you be joining us this time?" Diana asked Bruce.

"I'll be back in Gotham as soon as the press is done asking questions."

"Naturally," Clark said with a small smile.

"You should join," Diana insisted anyways.

"This is too much. At this rate, I wish I was in Green Lantern's shoes," Bruce said, sounding even more unenthused than usual.

"Oh yeah, where is he again? Fighting Qu… Qa… Qulamians? Qulamomins?" Wally said, stammering over the pronunciation.

"Qlumoans," J'onn said. He made a low disapproving noise. "A particularly violent species. They spit bacteria from their mouths and emit a foul-smelling, poisonous gas from their pores. One look at them and you would not be envious of Green Lantern's position."

Wally chortled at the idea. When J'onn looked at him questioningly, Wally suddenly felt his stomach drop in concern.

"Wait, was it offensive that I laughed?"

The doors opened and a steady line of journalists began to enter the room. Wally stood straight, trying to seem as presentable as possible as cameras blinded the room. The mayor gave his speech and Wally tried his damnedest not to yawn. The Q&A was far more nervewracking, waking him back up. Bruce dodged more questions than Wally had seen him dodge bullets. Diana was asked extensively about her hair products and the nature of her relationships with other members of the League.

"Aquaman, have you heard any updates on the sea turtles?" a journalist asked at one point.

"I've spoken to the turtles and the beaches are much cleaner but could still use improvement, thank you."

The questions went back to pestering Diana about her relationship with Superman, to which Clark interrupted with a long answer that was probably the most he had spoken during the entire Q&A.

"I thought Atlanteans couldn't actually talk to sea animals," Wally whispered to Arthur.

"If talking to fish is the only way to get people to stop littering beaches with their beer bottles, I'll 'translate' Flounder's entire autobiography," Arthur said out of the corner of his mouth, still grinning for the cameras.

Wally almost laughed until a journalist stood.

"Flash—"

"Hi," Wally said, alert at the sound of his moniker, to which a few in the room chuckled in response.

"Hi," the journalist said, adjusting his glasses. "Today marks your first received honor since becoming Flash. If the previous Flash, Barry Allen, was here today, how would he respond?"

Wally smiled a little awkwardly, heart fluttering as everyone in the room watched him.

"Well, if Barry was alive, he'd probably be here to accept the honor himself. And he'd probably do the job better and look a lot better doing it too."

Another low laughter throughout the room. The journalist continued, "Is that why you originally quit being Kid Flash?"

"I'm sorry?" Wally said, taken aback.

"Did you quit being Kid Flash because of Barry Allen? Because he could do the job better?"

Wally's heart skipped. The only sound in the room were the sounds of the camera shutters.

"Hey, that's not what I—"Wally's mouth felt dry.

Another journalist spoke out of turn, asking, "Do you have any updates on the whereabouts of Captain Cold?"

"Look," Wally said more firmly, brow furrowing. "I never _quit_ —"

"Losing Barry Allen was a loss to us all," Bruce said, cutting in. "Filling in his shoes is not an easy task but the Justice League believes that Wally West is doing an excellent job."

When Batman spoke, everyone listened. The journalists quickly went to jotting down notes and finally went back to pestering Diana about dieting tips.

When all was finished and they were led out of the room, Wally buried his face in his palms.

"I can't believe I froze up like that."

"It happens," Clark said. He sighed. "Some journalists purposefully press you for a reaction."

"And I fell for it."

"Wally, you shouldn't let anyone know your reasons for retiring as Kid Flash," Bruce interceded, sounding more firm rather than scolding. It was a humiliating feeling to be pitied by _Batman_. "If the public finds out your reasoning, they could see it as a weakness."

"I don't want to make up excuses. I want to be open about myself. Barry never told the public anything about himself—if he didn't sacrifice himself, he could have died as a nobody. Besides, it's important to be truthful. Right?" Wally's eyes happened to land on Diana.

"It's always important to be honest," Diana said with a soft, encouraging smile. But then her eyes cooled slightly. "Except, maybe, with journalists."

"Diana," Wally gasped.

As the group was led toward the banquet hall, Wally's phone suddenly went off. He looked at the screen, blinking twice at the unknown number. Wally's phone, along with everyone in the Justice League who owned a cell phone, had private, untraceable lines. He never received _unknown_ calls.

Wally narrowed his eyes. He already had a feeling who it was. He quickly ducked around the corner into an empty hallway, answering the phone.

"Hello?"

"What are you wearing?" a voice breathed.

It was a joke. But Dick's timbre was still flustering. Ignoring the heat on his face, Wally answered dryly, "Nothing tight and red, if that's what you're hoping for."

"Any chance that could change tonight?"

Wally's blush darkened. He shifted in place uncomfortably. "Stop talking like that."

"Talking like what?"

"That… _voice_."

"What voice?"

"You're still doing it. That weird, seductive voice. It was funny at first but now it's just excessive."

"...Wally, this is my natural speaking voice."

"What? No, it's not." Wally then stopped, sudden doubt filling him as he tried to recall Dick's voice from the last time they had spoken on the phone—but that already felt like ages ago. "Say something else."

"Something else."

 _Shit_ , Wally realized, embarrassed. Dick was telling the truth, it was his natural speaking voice. Wally changed the subject. "So what's this all about? Another mission?"

"Wait, are we just going to pretend that you didn't just call my voice sexy?"

"I _never_ said that."

"Seductive. Same thing."

"If you don't need anything then I guess I can hang up—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Dick said hurriedly. "I do need your help with something. That case that we stole? Well, I found out that it didn't contain the entire shipment. I need to track a van that's transporting some crucial materials—it's set to leave a facility outside of El Paso to a lab in Dallas around 9PM. While I can definitely get a jet down there in time, chasing after a guarded vehicle could be tricky."

"And I bet it'd be helpful to have someone who can run _faster_ than a van," Wally finished for him.

"Know a guy?"

Wally paused for a moment

* * *

, chewing on his lip. He _wanted_ to help but—he had a bad feeling. Dick was more than vague about the contents of his mission. Wally didn't question it much because it was a one time thing. But now, this mission was continuing—and it felt like it was building up to something bigger. Dick was asking for his help _again_ , and while flattering, Wally felt he knew Dick well enough to know this wasn't his style.

"What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into, Dick?" Wally said, rubbing his forehead.

"Nothing like _stealing the batmobile_ crazy, if that's what you're worried about."

Wally snorted once, the memory returning to him. "And yet, I feel like I'm still getting dragged along for the ride."

"Oh, come on. There was no _dragging_ involved. Half of it was your plan."

Wally still felt like he was being sweet-talked.

"So… can I count on seeing you in a few hours?"

Wally poked his head back around the corner, seeing the entrance to the banquet hall, where the party in his honor was waiting. The collar of his button-up felt suddenly stiff and once again, Wally was counting the time it'd take to get back to Jay's to pick up his uniform.

After a moment, Wally nodded.

"Yeah. I'll see you."

They were standing a little ways off the road, near a patch of tall, dry grass. Dick had his motorcycle turned off to help them blend in the darkness. They were just far enough from the city where the sky was dotted with a few stars—but other than that, the only lights that pierced through the darkness were the occasional orange orbs that lined the roads.

Wally did spot an 80 mile speed limit sign. He couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Gotta love Texas. Could do without the heat though. Is it possible to sunburn at night? Because I feel like I'm burning up just standing here."

"You tell me, you're the ginger."

"You tell me, you're the vampire."

"The van should be coming by any minute now," Dick said, getting back to business. He wiped off some dust on his helmet. "All you have to do is hop in, grab the case, and get out. I'll be trailing behind in case you need any help."

"Help?" Wally repeated dryly.

"I know the Great Flash Almighty doesn't need help from lil ol' me, but it's better to be safe…. especially given past experiences."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I'm always the one saving your ass."

"Not true—"

"Van's coming," Dick cut in, tugging on his helmet. Wally looked up—sure enough. But the van wasn't alone. There was a whole series of headlights coming down the road. The van had its own backup, a whole procession even.

"This isn't over," Wally said, looking at Dick.

"Prove me wrong," Dick said simply, adjusting his gloves.

The cars sped by. Wally let them pass before taking off after them.

Catching up was easier than stopping a kid on a tricycle—but he was definitely spotted when he started fiddling with the lock on the back of the van. He was in a single place long enough for the other cars to notice. He pried the lock open—but then there was a ringing sound in the air. Wally looked over—from the window of the car in the next lane, a gun was aimed at him, a bullet inching towards him. Wally broke the lock but had to hop down from the van to let the bullets rush by him.

The unhinged doors to the van began to roll open. Wally hurried towards the adjacent car, grabbing the gun that was pointing out the window. He ran side by side with the cars, disassembling all firearms and tossing the scraps back in. He wrapped around the van, to each car, yanking car doors open and repeating the process of dismantling all their weapons.

By the time he wrapped back around to the van, ready to hop in, he saw that Dick's motorcycle had already caught up, and he was in the process of leaping from his bike to the back of the van. A dangerous leap that Wally, seeing the projection frozen in time, wasn't quite sure Dick would make.

"Come on," Wally said, rolling his head. "You were supposed to be backup."

He snatched Dick out of the air, set him into the van himself. The guards inside the van had just began to rise up, guns in hand. Wally snatched them away. He glanced around the van, trying to find something to bind the guards—he moved to the front of the van, seeing a caged display of items, but nothing rope-like.

Wally glanced back at Dick, raising an eyebrow when he noticed a missing utility belt. His suit was skin tight so where did he keep all of his…?

Wally looked back to the display, noticing that trapped behind a panel of metal bars were important looking items. It was probably where the case was being stored—but his plan to grab the case, grab Dick, and jet was foiled when he saw the cage was locked. Naturally. Wally could sense an energy coming off of the bars, almost like electricity. A trap. He didn't dare touch it, much less try to break through it.

Sighing, he leaned against the corner of the van, letting the speedforce drop.

Dick stumbled in place, looking surprised, realizing he was in a new place. Everyone else reacted similarly, glancing down at their empty hands.

"You could have warned me," Dick said with a growl, dodging a punch. He slammed his attacker into the wall of the van.

"And you could have warned me that the case would be locked up," Wally shot back.

"Well, that's why I'm here, aren't I?" Dick said, his tone a bit lighter, as he kicked down a guard that rushed him. "To pick up after you."

Wally guessed Dick might have been teasing—but unable to let him get away with those words, Wally took the bait.

"Pick up after me?" Wally said incredulously. "I just took out all the guns from those cars and saved you from being roadkill!"

Dick stopped in place, with his arm locked around a guard's head, and stared Wally down with a flat expression.

"There was no rope," Wally said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You have superspeed. You can literally just pick them up and take them to Dallas yourself."

"But then I'd have to leave you on your own."

"How sweet of you," Dick said dryly, punching the last guard in the face. He strolled over to the cage, pulling out a small device from behind his back.

Okay, this was now the second object to just _magically_ _appear_ in Dick's hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Wally said, joining him by his side. He pointed at the device. "Where did you get that?"

"Batman?" Dick said, confused. He attached it to the keypad on the cage. "It'll break our way in."

"No, no, no. That's answering _who_. That was notmy question. I asked _where_ you got it. You were _not_ carrying that a second ago."

"Of course I was. It was in my pocket."

" _What_ pocket?" Wally said, gesturing at him from head to toe. "There's no _room_ for pockets."

At that, Dick tilted his head at Wally, giving him a strange smile. Wally realized his mistake, his face heating up.

"Okay. Look. Anyone would have thought and said the same thing."

"Sure, Wally."

"Don't 'sure' me—"

"It's unlocked and deactivated," Dick said, and Wally fumed at how Dick always managed to get the last word in. Dick turned back to the device and opened the cage. He moved his way in, eyes surveying the items bolted to the wall of the van. Wally noticed a metal box on the ground.

"What's in there?"

"Dunno, it's sealed shut. Wanna make a bet?" Dick said, trying to pry it open.

The van came to a sudden stop. Dick caught himself on one of the metal bars while Wally stumbled clumsily into the wall.

"Surprised it took them this long to pull over," Wally muttered. Dick seemed less amused.

"This trunk is bolted to the van. I can't get it open in time—you're going to have to fight the guards yourself."

Wally rolled his eyes and stepped inside the cage. He pushed Dick aside to get a better look. A heavy metal latch kept the box shut. Wally clenched a fist, vibrating his arm to a higher frequency, and punched through the metal latch. He grunted a little, his glove absorbing most of the impact on his knuckles, but the strike still sent a tremor through his hand. It did the job though—he opened up the trunk to reveal a case.

"Perfect," Dick said, sounding genuinely pleased, and he pulled out the steel case.

"Freeze!" a guard shouted.

"Just in time after all," Dick muttered and Wally took the case from him, grabbed Dick, and sped out of the van.

Wally finally came to a stop a few miles away, in the middle of an empty field off the road. He set Dick on the ground, who nearly fell over but Wally caught him by the arm.

"It'll go away in a few seconds," Wally said, almost apologetically.

"I know," Dick said, but he lowered himself to the ground, holding his head in his hands, looking like he was trying his hardest not to puke all over the place.

Wally sat with him, the case in between them. Wally glanced curiously at it. When he stopped and thought about it—Dick never did tell him exactly what was inside. He mentioned it as being a development for some type of weapon that he didn't trust being passed around. Wally wondered if it was some type of gun, or a bomb, or something stranger.

He thought about asking but he didn't, knowing perfectly well how much Dick liked his secrets.

"Once the dizziness fades, I can help you get back to the city," Wally said.

"No need," Dick said, finally picking up his head. "The bike runs on autopilot if I'm not on it. I already coordinated it to find me by my location. In ten minutes, it'll come find me."

"A motorcycle driving itself? Sounds… creepy."

Dick laughed once. "I thought everything I did was creepy to you."

"You're more than a little offbeat, sure, but I've gotten used to it. At least, I thought I did."

Dick laughed a little more. Wally smiled a little in return.

They waited in the dark for a few moments longer. When Dick finally returned to his normal self, they walked steadily towards the nearest road where Dick could reunite with his bike.

"I can't remember if you were still on the team when this happened," Dick started. "But there was this time where Kory and I were chasing after this flying metahuman, before she knew what altitude did to humans, and she flew me up so high that it gave me a massive migraine. I felt dizzy for days."

"Was this better or worse than that?"

"I don't think anything could have been worse than that," Dick said, chuckling.

"Whatever happened to her?"

"She still fights crime. She's on a team."

"No, I mean—do you two still _talk_?"

"I mean, it's kind of awkward, but… yeah, we talk. I've… kind of moved on from that."

"So I've heard."

"What?" Dick said, sounding surprised. Almost accusatory, he asked, "What have you heard?"

Wally crossed his arms, trying to recall. "I dunno. Donna said something like… about a girl that lives in your apartment building? Or maybe it was something with Huntress."

"There was never anything between me and Huntress—that was just—"Dick started and stopped just as quickly, seeming flustered. He muttered instead, "Why would Donna tell you?"

Wally snorted. "Who am I going to gossip to? I barely talk to anyone anymore. There's you. And sometimes her. And that's it. I've lost contact with pretty much everyone else. Once in awhile I'll see Garth when I'm doing something Justice League related and he happens to be trailing behind Arthur—but that's it."

Both of them were quiet for a moment, even their footsteps seemingly silent.

"I mean, there is my landlady, but—that's kind of a mess. Identity bullshit and all of that. I don't think it's going to work out."

"Just get back together with Kory."

"Are you even listening to me?" Dick said with a heavy sigh. "I already said I buried that."

"If you don't think you can have a relationship, then don't have one. Your problem is that you fall for people too easily."

" _Wow_ ," Dick said, voice suddenly sharp.

"What?" Wally said, blinking. "Am I wrong?"

"I can't have a relationship because I'm a vigilante. It has nothing to do with me being _indecisive_. Don't project your own relationship problems onto me."

"Projecting?" Wally said, raising an eyebrow. He watched Dick closely, whose gaze was firmly set straight ahead. A small alarm went off in the back of Wally's head. "Wait… are you mad?"

"Mad?" Dick repeated, back straightening. The brooding expression he had just a second ago suddenly vanished, as if Dick realized he had been caught.

"You're mad at me. _Really_ mad. Over something I said," Wally said, and he felt more shocked than defensive. Sometimes Dick was so good at guarding his emotions that Wally never caught him outside the states of _calm_ and _happy_. Even Dick looked dumbfounded that Wally had caught on. But Dick played it off, waving a dismissive hand.

"You're derailing my point," Dick tried to argue. Wally wasn't trying to rile Dick up—but he felt genuinely concerned by how Dick was reacting. As his mind raced to find a reason for why Dick was acting so personal, a single trace of suspicion came forward.

Wally, uncomfortably, asked, "Hey… this isn't about—"

Dick's head snapped in his direction. "About what?"

"Well, _you know_ ," Wally said, voice lower. Like a secret. "Like, from years back. You were talking to Donna and I overheard—"

Even in the darkness, Wally caught the bloom of color on Dick's face, and Wally couldn't tell if he was angry or embarrassed. Or both.

"Shut _up_ , Wally, I was fourteen. I am literally years beyond that point." Dick, turning his head, snorted a little. He muttered, almost ruefully, "I'm surprised you even remember."

"You know, it wasn't anything personal," Wally said, frowning. "I mean, it was really rude of me the way I went about it, but I was fourteen too—"

"Right, of course not. You were just afraid of what people would think." Dick stopped, slapping his forehead. "Why am I talking about this? This isn't even why I'm upset."

"Then why are you upset?" Wally said, blinking.

"I'm _not_."

"But you just said—"

"Okay, I'm mad—but I'm mad because it was a fucking rude thing to say. Nothing more."

"Oh," Wally said, thinking about it. "Right. Sorry."

The streetlights were growing nearer. Sure enough, parked neatly off to the side of the road, was Dick's motorcycle with his helmet clipped on the back. They crossed the empty street toward it. When Dick hopped on, Wally felt an immense regret for how their conversation went. Prodding Dick to talk about anything was always a bad idea. He'd rather just lock it all up inside of him, along with the rest of his secrets.

Wally watched Dick strap down the case to his bike.

"D—er, Nightwing," Wally said. Dick paused and looked up. "I really am sorry. I was really self-centered back then. After I found out the speedforce was… well, when I had to retire being Kid Flash—"Wally paused, rethinking it over"—okay, well, I was still an ass even after that. But what I'm trying to say is that in the past few years, not having my powers helped me become grounded again. What I'm trying to say is that I'm working really hard to not be _that guy_ anymore."

"Kid Flash was self-centered, yes. He bragged all the time, got into too much trouble, and was more sensitive than he was willing to admit. But he was also my friend." Wally's shoulders relaxed. Dick grabbed his helmet. "It's okay, Wally. It was a long time ago. We're not fourteen. And we're still friends."

Wally felt like he should have been relieved but something was still nagging at him.

Mostly, it was the tone of finality in which Dick spoke those last words.

"If you need help with anything else, let me know."

"I'll keep that in mind." Dick looked down at his helmet but he didn't put it on. Not yet. He seemed conflicted. In a lower voice, he added, "I think your time away from the costume did help ground you. And I know the… _circumstances_ behind you becoming the Flash weren't ideal… painful, even. But I'm still glad you have the speedforce back."

"Makes chasing down vans easier."

Dick smiled quietly. He continued, "That, and... you just seem happy, for once. Instead of, you know. Pretending."

Wally looked at him. Dick just tugged his helmet on. Protected.

"Plus, you know, we missed you and all that junk. All of us," he said, and with that being said, he took off.

Wally sighed a little, watching him go.

Once again, Dick got the last word in.

* * *

"In latest news, the longtime environmental terrorist, Weather Wizard, was recently caught and arrested thanks to Keystone's hero, the Flash—"

"Weather Wizard. What a joke," Wally overheard a man at the bar sneer. "Meanwhile, the real menace, Captain Cold, is still running around."

The man in the next barstool chuckled. "Would you rather have the city flood?"

"I'd rather have rain than snow, if that's what you're asking."

"Wally?"

"Huh?" Wally said, snapping out of his eavesdropping. He looked across the table at his date—Anna's secretary, who had been insistent on buying him a drink after Wally's last visit—who was stirring her own drink idly.

"I asked you something."

"Oh, right. Sorry, it's kind of loud in here," Wally said. The guy from the bar passed by, bumping into Wally's shoulder. The person looked at him strangely, probably recognizing his face without making the connection, but continued on his way. Wally cleared his throat. "Can you ask your question again?"

"When you're running, how long can you do it? Like, how good is your stamina?" she asked, looking at him intensely.

"Hey, you know," Wally started, drumming his hands on the table. "I've sort of had a long day of like, you know, Flash business and all. Let me pay the tab and then I'm going to head home."

"Head home?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I could… come with you—"

"No, no, that's okay," he said quickly, waving his hands. "I'll just see you later." She looked at him. Wally pointedly added, "Next time I stop at the office, I'll say hi."

"Oh," she said, leaning back in her chair and looking more than a little peeved. Wally walked as quickly as he could without running so he could pay the bartender and get out.

When he finally left the crowded bar, he sighed in relief. He carried his jacket over his shoulder, just glad to finally be out in the fresh air. And away from what was possibly his most awkward date in years.

He took his time to just walk back home, taking a pathway down an alley. He was alone in his thoughts, everything going just fine, when suddenly a rat crossed his path—and then froze in place.

Wally blinked, realizing time had stopped.

And that something was touching his back.

His speedforce, connected to his instincts, had just kicked in—as they did once on a rare occasion.

Wally didn't know what it was—he didn't feel the heat of a bullet, or the prick of a blade, the very things that had triggered his speedforce in the past—but he wasn't going to wait to find out. He raised his foot, ready to run from whatever was chasing him, but he then noticed something in the air around him. _All_ around him. A blanket of thick, pinkish material. And suddenly it was on him at once, consuming and capturing him. The speedforce dropped, time accelerating back to its normal place, and Wally found himself glued to the nearest brick wall.

Wally looked down. The pink goop was strangely familiar.

Wally tried to run his way through the sticky material but his body was firmly set in place. Even when he tried to vibrate his body, all he did was slowly weather away at the material—without making any progress forward.

Wally heard a faint footstep, looking up in time to see a figure coming out of the shadow. Wally's suspicions were confirmed.

"Roy, what the hell are you doing?" Wally said incredulously.

Roy stood there, bow drawn with another glue arrow. He said with a sneer, "If there's one thing that took me too long to learn, it's that good friends don't _enable_ their friends to do _stupid shit_. So consider this an intervention— _stop_ indulging Nightwing's stupid obsession and let this venom thing blow over."

Wally blinked several times, not even knowing where to start. His thoughts were moving so fast it was like they had a speedforce of their own.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Stop playing dumb. Ever since Nightwing told me his crackpot plan, I kept an eye on the security footage of that facility in Central City. It was all a blur but I managed to catch a still of you running into the lab before the cameras went out. I _know_ it was you that helped him."

" _And_?" Wally said.

At that, Roy looked taken aback, as if not expecting to be challenged. Frowning, he said, " _And_ you need to stop or I'll have a boxing glove arrow with both of your names on it."

"But _why_?"

Roy stared at Wally long and hard, considering his words. The longer Roy looked at him, the more Wally's anger seemed to ebb. There was an equal air of confusion to them both. Finally, Roy lowered his bow. "Holy shit, you're not _playing_ dumb. He Batman'd you."

Wally blinked, dumbfounded. What did that even _mean_?

"He _what_?"

"Nightwing. He Batman'd you." Roy turned his head, seeming lost in thought. "You have no idea why you went into that lab, do you?"

"I don't know," Wally said, stammering. "He said it was confidential."

Roy slowly buried his face in his hand. "God, you're _both_ idiots. But I guess it can't be helped—you didn't know."

With a bottle of solvent and a switchblade, Roy managed to cut Wally out of the adhesive. Wally soon found himself sitting side by side with Roy on a concrete staircase, peeling off pieces of pink gloop as Roy talked.

"That case that you helped Nightwing steal contained _venom_. It was confiscated by authorities a few weeks ago—they have military labs researching it to create a formula that will take down Bane. But Nightwing, being trained in paranoia to the point of making it an _artform_ , is fully convinced that these research facilities aren't trustworthy and they want to turn the venom into a serum to create super soldiers. He was convinced that the venom needed to be taken and destroyed before falling into worse hands than Bane's. I'm assuming with your help, he was successful."

"I don't get why you're so worked up about this," Wally said. His face cringed in disgust as he peeled glue from the back of his ear. "I mean, venom _is_ dangerous. It's what Bane used to break Batman's back."

Roy gave Wally a dry look. "But isn't that _precisely_ why this is so worrisome?"

Wally frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how often do you see Nightwing breaking into military-protected facilities to steal research materials on a _hunch_ that they might not use said research materials to stop a _master criminal_?"

At that, Wally sunk in place. Roy had a point—it was a suspicion that Wally had carried with him since Dick first showed his face in Keystone, his concerns only worsening when they were attacked by soldiers and a metahuman guard. It was dumb and dangerous—something far more reminiscent of their days as _teenagers_. Back in the day where they still believed they were invincible and could get away with doing stupid things like running onto armed territory with zero consequences.

Roy went on, "Nightwing has _no_ evidence that these facilities have any ill intent. Even as someone who was raised by a government conspiracy theorist, even I find it hard to believe that these research labs don't want to _stop_ Bane, who literally took over a _city_. Let's say Nightwing was right. Let's say he _did_ have proof—why not go to Batman? Why not recruit _his_ help, when he should have the biggest grudge against Bane? The answer is simple: it's because he knows Batman _wouldn't_ join him. It's because he _knows_ his theory is wrong and what he's doing is illegal and possibly harmful."

"Look, it's not that I don't believe you," Wally said, feeling uncomfortable. "Some of the things you're saying do make sense. But this is _Nightwing_ we're talking about. He's not the type of person who just does what he wants because he _can_. He's also not the type of person unwilling to listen to _reason_. What motivation would he have to do all of this?"

"Look, I know it's hard to imagine that he could do _wrong_ ," Roy said, voice lowering. "With the Titans, he was the one we turned to for our plans. And when there was no plan, he was the one who improvised us out of trouble. When all else went to hell, _he_ was the one who we depended on. He was exactly the level-headed type of person, the _balance_ , that kept us from going too far and not going far enough. Trust me, I _know_ , but… he's _not_ perfect."

"I can accept that—nobody's perfect, obviously. But you're making this sound like a _huge_ error in judgment."

"The answer is because it's personal," Roy said firmly. "Venom _destroyed_ Batman. It destroyed him when Batman got addicted to it, and it destroyed him when Bane broke his back, and it destroyed his psyche when Bane _took over_ Gotham. Inside and out."

"So vengeance? That's what you're telling me? When has Nightwing _ever_ wanted revenge?"

"It's not revenge to him. He still thinks it's justice. He thinks he's doing the right thing. The problem is that he doesn't realize he could be doing harm in the process. He's been blinded by this need to _prove_ himself."

"Prove himself to who?"

"To Batman. Who else? It _always_ comes back to Batman."

Wally's eyes shifted to the side, brief childhood memories coming back to him. Robin, always parroting Batman's strategies. Robin, who was as much of a kid as the rest of his teammates, but always pulled himself back when he acted like _too much_ of a kid. Robin, always in Batman's shadow, whether he liked it or not. He supposed Roy's words weren't _untrue_ , but…

Roy sighed. "Think about it. After Bane broke Batman's back, Batman _could_ have given the cowl to Nightwing. But he didn't. And as a result, Gotham was nearly destroyed. This is Nightwing's way of proving himself—by taking out the very thing that destroyed Batman in the first place. It's not about getting revenge on Bane or spite for not inheriting the cowl—I doubt he even _wants_ the cowl—but it's to prove himself to Batman that he's reliable and trustworthy."

"It makes sense—but by believing you, I have to believe that Nightwing lied to me."

Roy looked at him. "That's what he _does_ , Wally. That's how he was _raised_. Hell, that's how he got us out of trouble from time to time, by keeping things to himself."

"No. You haven't worked with Batman like I have. Nightwing is nothing like him."

"Maybe not. But you can't deny there are some similarities. I'm not saying Nightwing is a liar—but he definitely likes to keep his secrets." Wally couldn't come up with an argument to that. Roy gazed off in the distance. "Look, I owe Nightwing a lot. I would go to hell and back for him. But I'm not going to encourage him to go on some suicide mission for _no good reason_." After a moment, Roy sighed. "Look, we already talked this far, so I might as well say it: there's another facility that might be holding venom. It's significantly more guarded than the Central City location—as in, it'd be very difficult for a certain sneaky acrobat to ninja his way inside of it by himself. That is, _assuming_ he knows about it. I don't want you to tell him a word about this—but let's say he _does_ go to you for help, because God knows he's always a step ahead of us in finding these rumors—if that happens, you _better_ stand up to him. You have to tell him _no_."

Wally rubbed his forehead. This whole thing was a mess.

" _Wally_ ," Roy said sharply.

"Okay, okay, I will," Wally said, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Good," Roy said, standing up.

"Okay, but one more thing: did you have to glue arrow me _before_ talking to me?"

"Honestly, I thought you were going to put up more of a fight."

Wally bristled in annoyance. "I'm telling Donna."

"Whatever," Roy said, with the hint of a smile. But then his expression reverted. "I know we haven't always gotten along—especially back then. I was dealing with a lot of stuff and I took that out on everyone else, sometimes on you the most. You had superpowers and had a lot to show off—but in ways, you were the most vulnerable out of all of us, and I think I sensed that."

"Are you going somewhere with this…?" Wally said, eyes shifting to the side. The last thing he wanted was to be described as _vulnerable_ , especially if it was coming from Roy.

"I'm getting to it," Roy said, annoyed by Wally's impatience. He huffed a little, looking like he wanted to quit talking entirely now that he had been interrupted, but he composed himself. "I just wanted to say that it's good to see that you're back." Roy's brow furrowed slightly, and he continued, the words seeming almost difficult. "Back then, when you told us what the speedforce was doing to you…"

"I get it. You were an ass."

Roy gave him a long, hard look. "Okay, I'm done. I kinda felt bad but then... you had to be _you_ , so..."

At that, Wally blinked, an idea finally occurring to him. "Wait, were you going to say _sorry_?"

"Bye."

"No, wait, I want to hear it—"Wally started but stopped when an arrow was pointed at him.

But then Roy moved the tip of the arrow, shooting a cable arrow at the rooftop of the building behind Wally.

" _Bye_ , Wally."

"Oh come on—it's only two syllables!" Wally shouted as Roy took off, retracting the cable to launch himself up to the roof.

Wally watched him, knowing he could run up to the roof in time, and yet he knew the opportunity had still passed. He sighed to himself.

He still walked the rest of the way home, even though he was anxious to shower and get the rest of all the pink crud off his body. He let himself brew in his thoughts, considering Roy's words and pitting them against what he _thought_ he knew about Dick.

Was Dick lying or telling the truth?

Wally just couldn't keep up anymore.

* * *

Wally's loft was in uptown Keystone—close enough to all of the action without any of the noise and smog from downtown. It was set on the highest floor with great open windows for a picture-perfect view of the city. The interior was sleek, spacious and modern, drafted by some designer whose name he couldn't _quite_ remember but could recall _sounding_ like it belonged to a hotshot. He had a private balcony, access to a pool, a home theater, and countless other luxuries.

Over time, the excitement over his place had waned. With his work as the Flash, he spent more time running across the country for the Justice League rather than sitting at home, and the few times he _was_ home, it all just felt… like he was sitting at someone else's place, not his. It was too much, too big, for him. His days of partying were over and at this point, he was already considering becoming a crazy cat person just so his place wouldn't be empty all of the damned time.

After a two day absence that involved sorting out a metahuman attack on Metropolis, Wally finally returned home. He could barely remember what his place looked like anymore and was determined to fall right into his bed, even though the sun was still in the process of setting. But when he entered the front door, kicked off his boots, and started to move toward the bedroom—he noticed something in the reflection of his shiny, floor length window.

" _Ah_!" he said, jumping in place. His heart hammered against his chest. He whipped around on his heel, storming—but not running—toward the sofa. A head of dark hair poked above the edge of the square couch.

Dick leaned his head back to gaze up at Wally, who simply glared at him accusingly in return. "Welcome home, darling. How was your trip?"

"How did you break in?" Wally said at once.

"It was frighteningly easy. I went ahead and updated your alarms. It's similar tech to what I use in my own safehouse—I'll show you how to use it. I could even connect the signals to your Flash suit, if you don't mind me tinkering with your ring."

"That's not my point!"

"Don't worry, I didn't look around." Dick shifted his position on the couch so he could face Wally straight on, where Wally was then greeted by a mischievous gaze. It was at that moment that Wally realized he was _actually_ looking at Dick—no sunglasses, no mask. Just blue eyes. "Not that much, anyways. Your, uh, movie collection is quite interesting."

"Movie collection?" Wally repeated.

He didn't own any physical films. He had his television hooked up with his computer for all of his viewing… needs...

Face reddening in realization, Wally grumbled, "Sometimes you're browsing through things and come across some stuff by accident."

"I would agree that it's some pretty curious stuff, Wally."

"See, this is why you're never invited over."

"That and transportation to my end of the neighborhood is a lot easier."

Dick smiled at him. Wally just looked at him, remembering his conversation with Roy from a few nights back, and found himself unable to smile back. It wasn't just the fact that he had been busy—he was avoiding Dick too. There was a flicker in Dick's eyes—he had to have noticed Wally's unease. He was good at things like that. Reading people. So Wally turned away.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked, and he found himself not caring for the answer. He moved toward the window, just now noticing the dying plant near his window. He gently lifted a limp leaf with an index finger, frowning to himself. Okay, maybe getting a cat would be a bad idea. He had been away from home for too long—that or he had been too careless. Unable to resist, he added in a low voice, "Do you have another mission?"

A slight pause. But then in a gentle lilt: "Actually, I have a gift."

Wally glanced back. Dick was already off the couch, reaching into his back jeans pocket, handing over a slightly crinkled envelope. Wally turned it over in hand and then looked back up at Dick cautiously.

"What is this?"

Dick shrugged a little, shoving his hands back in his pockets. He rocked back and forth on his heels once, in a way that was all too reminiscent. Small Robin, never unmoving, even when he stood in one spot.

But Wally had been the same way. He was always fidgeting as a kid.

"From experience… I can say that it's hard to pick a gift for someone who has everything, so I hope you like it," Dick said.

"Not everything," Wally said to himself as he ripped through the envelope. Inside was a check—not addressed to him, but addressed to _Keystone's Children of the Arts_. The same charity his Aunt Iris helped fundraise for. The one Wally tried to keep afloat as well after many failed meetings with Anna.

Wally's gaze lingered on the figures written down and rubbed his forehead. When it came to money, Batman and his affiliates… always impressed.

"Thanks," Wally said, but while he was genuinely touched, he couldn't say it in a meaningful way like he wanted to. His gaze was still downcast—from his peripherals, he could see Dick, bending his back and ducking his head just to get in Wally's line of vision.

"'Thanks'? That's it?" Dick said, smiling. Every once in awhile, when Wally wasn't too wrapped up in his own feelings, he could see it—the ingenuity in Dick's smile. Or maybe this time, Wally was only tipped off because he knew that through Dick's eyes, it was pretty obvious Wally was upset. Dick wanted him to talk about it but he respected Wally's privacy enough to not _push_.

Wally glanced back at the check and sighed a little. He caught Dick beginning to frown—but it was clear the dark-haired vigilante still wasn't going to be the one to _ask_.

"Is this compensation for something?" Wally had to ask.

"Compensation?" Dick's brows slowly began to furrow, gaze lost. "No, it's just a gift—not _payment_. I mean, I figured after helping me with everything, it was the least I could do. Plus, hey, artsy kids. I can empathize a little."

Wally ignored Dick's carefree turn, his hands lowering to his sides in a defeated motion. "Why did you ask me for help?"

Dick was struggling to keep up his facade, face falling into concern. "You mean on the mission? Well, I couldn't do it on my own—"

"Yeah, but why _me_?"

"You were the best one for the job—"

"The _best_ one or the _only_ one?" Wally asked. When Dick hesitated, Wally could feel his heart start to race. "Come on, which is it?"

"Hey, I don't get what you're trying to accuse me of... if you have something to say, just spit it out."

"Roy talked to me a few nights ago," Wally said, then paused. He waited just long enough to gauge Dick's reaction but Dick just gave him a steady look, his expression almost purposefully unreadable. Wally sighed heavily. "He said we _stole_ from military sponsored research."

"You knew that."

" _Barely_. I had to figure it out on my own. And you didn't tell me it was _venom_. If you knew these things, why didn't you tell me before recruiting me?"

"I didn't think it mattered and you never asked. Come on, when have I ever led you into doing something illegal without _you_ knowing about it?" Dick said firmly. "You know that I would never do that."

"I don't know, Dick," Wally said, face falling. "Part of being a superhero is doing what the law can't do—I don't mind bending the law if the end result means something _good_ was accomplished. But Roy said these research facilities were trying to use the venom to make a formula to _end_ it."

" _Or_ they were planning on using it for themselves to make _more_ Banes," Dick cut in, voice beginning to sharpen. "It's better to just destroy it all. Maybe they _were_ working on a solution—but who knows what could happen a year from now? Five years? What if we go to war, what happens to this research that can turn men into _monsters_? I don't want _anyone_ to have any information on this—this _poison_ —"

"Where's your _evidence_ , Dick? This isn't suspicion. It's _paranoia_."

Dick opened his mouth to say something but he stopped himself. He closed his eyes for a second, recomposed himself. "Look, I know what it seems like. I'm just asking you to _trust_ me on this."

" _Trust_?" Wally said back, volume rising. His heart started to race. Dick glanced away uncomfortably but Wally didn't stop. He kept going. "Dick, you can't talk to me about trust. You don't trust anybody! It's what you do!"

"I trust _you_."

"Then why didn't you tell me what we were looking for? Why did you make it a big secret?"

"Because if you told anyone, someone would have put a stop to it."

Wally had a strong feeling who Dick feared that _someone_ would be. Wally pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to reel himself back. "That's not _trust,_ Dick."

"I trusted you to help me with no questions asked. And you _did_. No one else did that for me, Wally. No one."

"Wow, that is some… next level mind manipulation. You sound _insane_ ," Wally snapped. Dick's gaze was steadily darkening, looking frustrated. He kept quiet as Wally went on. "I'm not a teenager anymore, Dick. I don't appreciate people taking advantage of me."

"Taking _advantage_ of you?" Dick repeated incredulously. He shook his head. "Come on, Wally. I didn't _trick you_ into doing anything."

"You knew damn well I was going to follow along with your plan. That's why you resorted to _me_. And you were afraid to tell me the truth because you were afraid I'd back out, just like everyone else. But you shouldn't have even asked to begin with—hell, _you_ shouldn't have even pursued this mission!" Wally paced a few steps away, clenching his hands into fists so he'd stop throwing around all his big arm gestures. The tension was growing in the air and when he remembered to breathe, it sounded more like a long, heavy sigh. "I just can't believe I fell for it. I thought you _wanted_ me as your partner—I didn't realize I got recruited because I was the only one _dumb enough_ to play along."

"You are _completely_ twisting my motivations around," Dick said, teeth showing.

"This is all based on what you just told me!" Wally said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"I wanted to get rid of the venom and I wanted to do it as subtly as possible. That's _it_. All of this other stuff—this _manipulation_ you're talking about—is completely ridiculous."

"It may not have been your intention but it was your _means_."

"See, this is your problem, Wally. You're always the _victim_. You get so wrapped up in your own insecurities that you just _self destruct_ —and to hell with anyone who gets caught up in the blast."

"Not true—"

"Very true. You did it with your parents. You did it with Barry. You did it with the Titans. And now you're doing it with me. You think everyone is out to get you! No one is out to get you, Wally! You just need to let go."

"That was the _old_ me!" Wally snapped, pointing a finger in Dick's direction. Dick's gaze instantly darkened and he swatted Wally's hand away from his face with the back of his hand. Wally's blood was rushing, heart hammering, at this point. The motion barely even fazed him, he was already too worked up. "You think after having the speedforce almost _kill me_ , that I actually cared about _impressing_ people? You think after Barry and Iris died, that I even _cared_ what other people thought?"

"The loft, the fame, the money, the girls—I don't know, you seem to act like you have a lot to prove," Dick said quickly. He shook his head. "This Flash business—you think it's made you _special_ again. You think being Wally West, without the speedforce, made you nonexistent. You act like _I'm_ the crazy one for taking risks—but you're the one who's afraid of being _ordinary_."

"That's what _you_ think. _And_ that's why you chose me—because you thought I'd want to impress you and prove that I could be Flash. But I didn't do it for those reasons, Dick, I did it because you're my friend." When Dick paused, Wally shrugged. His eyes were still on Dick, expectantly. "Well? Am I wrong? I'm still waiting for you to tell me _why_."

"Okay, fine. I should have told you," Dick said, shaking his head. It was a reluctant admittance—but whether he wanted to say it or not, Dick sighed and continued anyways. "Yes, I was afraid to talk about the details of the mission. And yes, part of me chose you because I knew you'd do it, but it wasn't because I thought I could _control_ you. And if I'm honest, no, you weren't my first choice. But you pulled through when no one else did. Doesn't that count for something?"

Wally stopped talking. After a moment, Dick sighed.

"Come on. Say something. I'd rather just have you yell at me than act all quiet and sulky."

"I just don't understand why you did it," Wally said.

"I told you—"

"No. I don't get why you felt like you had to risk your life over this. Roy said it was because you had something to prove—because you needed to get yourself back in good favor. And I know it's probably true but I can't wrap my head around that. You were always extraordinary, Dick. You never needed a bolt of lightning to make you that."

Wally's brow furrowed, his mind lost in thought. Dick, both subtle and the center of attention, who was charming without even trying, who was mysterious in his ways and yet felt familiar all at once. As kids, his teammates wanted nothing more than to protect Dick—but Dick, despite lacking any extra abilities than the human mind and body he was born with, always outshone them in every way. He was born a gift to the world, his ordinariness somehow propelling him that much further into greatness.

Wally was nothing like that. Just a kid from a small town. Had never travelled outside of the midwest. Had two living parents but felt unwanted by either. And a gift that he wasn't born with, but had been projected onto him out of pure luck and strange circumstance. A gift he couldn't quite control and a legacy he couldn't quite live up to, because he wasn't extraordinary at all. He was just a great pretender, wearing a borrowed costume and borrowed powers that he was never meant to have. Powers that should have killed him long ago because they were too great for him to control.

"The idea that you're just willing to give it all away—"Wally slowly shook his head to himself, eyes narrowing as he stared at the ground, trying to make sense of it all"—that you're willing to put your life on the line—just to prove that you're _good enough_ … I can't accept that. I can't accept _that_ being the reason _why_."

Dick just backed up a few steps, the silence pervasive. He finally waved a dismissive hand. "Forget it. Keep the gift, you earned it."

"Dick—"

"I'll talk to you later," Dick said, heading toward the door.

"Can't we just talk about this now?" Wally called after him but Dick was already out the door, the wall closing up behind him.

* * *

Wally was reckless as Kid Flash.

He was as quick and as destructive as a tornado. In ways, it came in handy. It helped on dangerous missions, where he couldn't afford to be afraid. It took him places he never would have gone otherwise. But he had also burned a lot of bridges, broken a lot of hearts, lost his sense of priorities, and got himself in irreparable situations.

It took the speedforce nearly killing him to make him finally slow down.

After Barry's sacrifice, after Wally's powers came back and the title of Flash was his, Wally promised himself he wouldn't be so reckless again. That he finally had a chance to do things over. That lightning had struck in the same place twice and his luck wasn't always going to be there to fall back on.

Dick was the level-headed one. He was the balance between their team. But he wasn't perfect.

Wally found himself following up on that facility that Roy had located. The last facility with the venom. The look of the place was intimidating enough—guards and military vehicles littered everywhere. Fence upon fence upon fence. Cameras and eyes around every corner. Wally stayed on high ground. And barely, just barely, he caught sight of a flitting shadow.

Wally didn't hesitate. He ran.

Dick jumped back, startled, when Wally suddenly appeared in front of him. When he recognized who it was, Dick relaxed, though his hand was still clutched over his heart.

"Jesus, Wally. I swear you're one of the only few who can actually sneak up on me." His brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Stopping you," Wally said firmly.

At that, Dick looked taken aback. "Why?"

"This facility has venom. I know it. You're going to steal again."

Dick shook his head to himself, looking almost disappointed. "Come on, Wally. You know I need to do this. If you can't help me, I understand—but don't try to stand in my way."

Dick shoved past him. Wally stayed in place, considering letting him go, but even if Dick was angry at him for it, Wally decided he couldn't allow this to go on. Wally cut off Dick's path once again, lightning quick.

Dick blinked in surprise—but his shock quickly turned into anger. "I'm losing my patience. Back off."

"I'm worried—"

" _No_ , you're not," Dick snapped. "You're just mad at me for lying to you. It was wrong, I admitted it. I am sorry. But this is more important to me than our squabble."

Wally knew Dick's obsession was more important than Wally's feelings—of course he knew that. Maybe at one point Wally had been at the top of a list of things that Dick cared about—but separation had changed them. Or rather, Wally's old arrogance had changed them. Wally steeled himself against the pang in his chest.

"When we stole from those other places, people had the authority to _shoot you_. Don't tell me that I can't be worried," Wally said.

All the powers in the world didn't matter. All that mattered was how much a hero was willing to sacrifice. Wally learned that from Barry. Dick was more experienced than Wally, he had done amazing things beyond Wally's abilities and comprehension—but it was _because_ he was such a selfless hero that Wally couldn't trust him. And he wasn't about to chance a repeat incident of justice gone too far.

"And you don't get to disappear for, what, _five years_ , and then tell me how to do my job," Dick snapped. "I've been doing this, nonstop, since I was _ten_."

"Are you _serious_? _Disappearing_ , is that what you think that was?" Wally said.

Dick hung his head, his expression strained. He was furious—but there were wisps of understanding in his expression, realizing the mistake he made. "That's not what I meant to say—"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I never wanted to stop!"

"I know," Dick said, defeated. "The risk was too great and—"

"It wasn't risk! What _you're_ doing is _risk_!" Wally said, gesturing to him. Dick just looked back at him. "You _always_ are running off onto missions that are too big for you, and you never accept any help! _You're_ the one always running headfirst into danger with a goddamned smile on your face, like nothing could go wrong!"

"Wally—"Dick started.

"I _hated_ the way you guys judged me for leaving—"

"What, you mean the _team_?" Dick said, scoffing. "No one judged you!"

It wasn't just the Titans, no. It felt like everyone. The media and the public. The Justice League. Like Wally had joined this exclusive club and once he was out, he was out.

"You all stopped talking to me!" Wally said, voice rising. And at that, Dick fell short of an argument. "I never wanted to _quit_. It was difficult seeing you guys out there, fighting without me! But it was _killing_ me—"

"I know that," Dick said, quickly cutting in. "We _all_ knew that. Wally, you're talking about _your_ regrets. You know, deep down, that we never would have judged you for making that choice—"

"But you _did_!" Wally said. "It pissed you off because _you_ made that choice every time you put on your mask, and I didn't. _None of you_ forgave me for that—but what you don't understand is that I was the same as all of you. We all felt it when we were kids—getting into danger was stupid and exciting and _fun_. It made us feel _invincible_. It made me never second guess the uniform."

"We knew we weren't invincible. We knew the risk of the job—"

"There's _risk_ and then there's death _chasing after you_ , it's not the same. It's _not_. That's why this needs to stop."

Dick seemed unsure of what to say. His expression was slowly changing, mixed between arguing and trying to understand.

"Look, I get why you're saying this. I get you're just trying to stop me. And you do have a point. The truth is, we _did_ disagree with the choice you made—but you were important to us," Dick said, and it was the first time in awhile that Wally actually felt Dick's honesty. "We wanted you alive, and with us. If that meant giving up Kid Flash—"

"All you wanted was Kid Flash," Wally said, feeling rueful. "It was never about Wally West. The minute we split up as a team, I stopped seeing all of you. We went our separate paths for good."

Dick looked uncomfortable. "I mean… we were _busy_. We still cared about you."

"You said we weren't teammates. You said we were _friends_."

"We _are_." Dick backed up a step, scowling. "You're making this about _you_ again."

"I'm not," Wally said, frustrated. "I just need you to understand that I _hated_ giving up Kid Flash. I absolutely hated it. You have no idea what my days felt like where everything just went back to normal. I could _feel_ the seconds. Nothing ever felt exciting anymore—it was like I was just waiting for my life to tick by."

Wally could see the sympathy in Dick's eyes—but he still seemed guarded, waiting for Wally to get to his point.

"You told me about how you once flew up so high, you were sick for days. That's what the speedforce was doing to me. It was the type of sick that _hurt_. I could feel pain right down to my bones, like my body was just going to burst. And I _still_ didn't want to give it up. But I had to, because I had my family and friends to think of. You would have done the same, if you were me!"

At that, Dick stopped. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air but eventually, Dick nodded.

"You're right," he said. "I would have."

It wasn't spoken in the tone Wally was expecting. At that, Wally realized the mistake in his words. "That came out completely wrong."

"It's because of my family that I do this, Wally—that's how this whole crazy thing started—"

"I know, I know. That's not what I was trying to say. I know what you're doing is important to you. I'm not asking you to give up being a hero, like I had to, not at all. It's just this mission. I'm just trying to tell you that this mission is _too much_ —"

"Believe what you want, but I'm not doing this to punish myself," Dick said. Dick continued his trek. "Don't cut in front of me again."

Wally followed instead. "Then let me help you."

Dick scoffed. "I've had enough of your _helping_."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant let me _actually_ help you." At that, Dick slowed to a stop. Wally might have been rash in his words—he had this ominous feeling in his gut when he looked around their setting. But this was Wally's second chance and he was tired of making slip-ups. Shoulders falling, Wally finally said, "If you're really not going to stop—then let's work together."

"You made it clear that you didn't want to be dragged into this," Dick said, looking over his shoulder. Back still turned, voice sharp. "And to be perfectly honest, I don't know if I _want_ your help."

"I don't care what your reasons are anymore. I don't care if this is to impress someone, or if it's revenge, or if you think it's the best thing to do—I've become so afraid of fucking things up that I was willing to let you down." Dick watched Wally intensely as he spoke, his expression slowly beginning to mellow. "I don't want to be afraid of what people think about me anymore. I just want to be the person you can depend on."

Dick paused for a moment, expression shadowed. He finally turned fully. "Okay. If you're really sure, then come with."

Wally was anything but sure. And by Dick's tone, Wally guessed Dick wasn't even sure. "What's your plan?"

"I don't have one. I couldn't even get blueprints of this place. I was just going to sneak in and figure it out as I went along."

"Oh," Wally said.

Dick looked embarrassed. "I know it's not… ideal. I'm normally more prepared than this."

"I think… I'll just follow you."

Dick slowly nodded. Finally muttering, "Okay."

Wally followed Dick's footsteps as they snuck past the gates and wrapped their way around the building. Wally's gaze lingered on the military marked vehicles they passed. His heart was thumping loud in his chest. If anything happened, Wally could easily get away, but he couldn't leave Dick behind and that made things a lot more complicated.

This whole thing was dumb and dangerous.

Wally and Dick made it to a locked door which Dick easily broke into. Before Wally could step inside, Dick held out his arm, holding Wally back.

"Wait, don't just rush in there," Dick said. Wally raised an eyebrow at the arm, wondering if Dick _actually_ thought that could stop him if he really wanted to make it through. "Look at the walls. They're riddled with sensors. You'll never make it through without setting off an alarm, even at superspeed."

"And? An alarm is nothing, it's not like they could catch me."

"I've seen you eat those words in the past. Look at the grooves on the ground." Wally's gaze fell to the ground, at the spot Dick was pointing towards. The lines were faint. Wally frowned, not understanding Dick's suspicion for what could have easily been innocent tiles. "How much you want to bet they have traps underneath the ground? They could easily catch any metahuman. This isn't like the Central City facility or the van—we need to do this slow and steady."

Dick probably had a point, he always did. All Wally needed to do was step in the wrong place at the wrong time—and even the speedforce couldn't saved him from being pulled by a magnetic field or getting zapped or gassed.

Wally glanced back at Dick, just now noticing a tiny device in his hands. "When did you… nevermind."

The device took out all of the sensors. Still, per Dick's instructions, they moved carefully across the ground, hugging the wall. Dick clicked on his mask, facing the walls.

"There are guards on the other side of here."

"I can get us past them."

"There's an elevator to the right. Let's see where it can go."

Wally grabbed Dick and took him to the elevator, as instructed. Inside the elevator was a directory.

"Convenient," Wally said, raising a brow.

"It is a rather big facility," Dick said, looking it over. "Research labs are on the upper floors."

Wally looked at the numbers then looked at Dick. Dick shrugged and hit the top floor button.

"Oh my God," Wally said after a moment.

"What?" Dick said, alarmed.

"Listen. There's _actually_ elevator music in here."

Dick stopped and listened. The faint music filled the silence. "Huh. You're right. Didn't realize we were in a hotel."

The elevator dinged. They stepped off, finding themselves in a vast room with many doors.

"Uh," Wally said. "I could use my superspeed and check everything."

"We should stick together," Dick said, but Wally was already walking off.

Suddenly, a sound went off. Loud and shrill in their ears, making Wally's heart jump and his ears ache.

Wally saw it—notches in the ground opening up. Metal bars rising up. Wally made a run for it—but something shocked him, sending him stumbling back to the ground, the current running through his body.

Nothing like a bolt of lightning—but it hurt all the same, and he wasn't able to bite back the shout that was pulled from his throat.

"Wally!"

Dick hurried to the side of the cage.

"Stop!" Wally said, rolling over from his place on the ground—before Dick could place his hands on the bars. Dick eyed them, a thoughtful look on his face. Wally had to keep his voice raised to be heard over the sirens, continuing, "This is the same type of cage from the van! If you get any closer, it'll shock you—probably enough to taze you! I heal fast so I'm okay but—"

"I'll disable it," Dick said, backing up a step, his eyes scanning over the contraption. "I just need to find the lock."

"Nevermind that!" Wally said, picking himself back up. "With these alarms going off, they'll be here any minute! Just go grab the venom."

"They _will_ be here any minute—and that's exactly why I can't just leave you here!"

"Stop worrying so much," Wally said, even though his heart was fluttering so nervously he couldn't help but worry himself. He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm Flash. I work with the _Justice League_. The military loves me."

Dick looked torn. He shook his head in defeat, huffing. He took one last glance at Wally and ran off.

A few minutes passed before the alarms finally shut off.

Not long after they had, an ensemble of guards entered through the doors. At the head of the group was a woman in a neat military uniform. She stopped before the cage.

"Flash. I can't say I'm not a fan—but you _do_ realize being a superhero does not grant you free access to military bases, correct?" she said wryly, eyes narrowing.

"Sorry about that, ma'am. I must have gotten lost. Sometimes I run around, saving the world so much, my directions get all screwed up. Maybe you could let me out so I can find my way back to the Hall of Justice?"

Wally flashed his best grin.

The commander just stared flatly in return, unfazed.

Apparently the Flash card only worked when it came to getting free seats at the _Combines_ game, not when it came to getting out of military confrontations.

"I'm sorry," he said, putting his hands up in surrender. "I'll come quietly."

"Not just yet," she said, frowning. "Our eye witnesses in Texas recognized you—even if they didn't _see_ you—but they couldn't identify your friend. Who and _where_ is he?"

"Friend? Only friends I have are currently in the Hall of Justice."

"Nice try, Mr. West, but we know you have an accomplice." Voice lower, she said, "The materials you're intending to steal are highly dangerous. If you don't start coming clean, we have no choice but to assume you plan to _use_ them to threaten our nation's security."

"I'm telling you, I'm all alone—"

The lights went out.

Wally blinked, eyes opening to complete darkness. Wally's eyes searched through the pitch black, his heart racing faster. He could hear the murmurs in the group, followed by a commanding voice:

"Stay on guard but whatever you do, _don't fire_ until the lights are back on. Johnson, Yang—take care of this."

Wally heard a few steps—followed by a loud crash, and then the sound of metal clanging. A body hitting the floor.

A gun went off.

" _What did I say_?!" the commander barked. But soon the entire room was filled with sounds. The smacking of fists, heavy boots stumbling on the ground, shouting and grunts, thuds against walls.

"This would be so cool if I could see," Wally said under his breath.

One by one, bodies fell to the ground. Until finally the room was silenced.

From the silence:

"Wally, back up."

Wally didn't ask questions. He took a few paces backwards. Piercing through the darkness was a tiny, blinking red light—followed by a flash of light as the explosive went off, briefly illuminating the room. Wally walked toward the opening, careful not to trip over the debris.

"Are you alright?" Dick asked.

"Dude, you just kung-fued like, ten military soldiers. In the _dark_. In like, a _minute_." Wally didn't even bother to mask the giddiness in his voice.

" _Wally_."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"We need to get out of here."

The voice seemed more distant than it was a second before.

"Hey uh, I'm glad you broke me out and all—and turning out the lights was real clever—but I don't have your fancy nightvision lenses and running into the wall even at a normal speed seems uncool."

"Just follow my voice. We have to hurry."

"Right," Wally said, nodding to himself determinedly. "Got it."

He took off.

"Wait, no. Wally. Not that way. Follow my voice."

"Uh, right," Wally said. He turned on his heel.

"Oh my God, no. Have you never played Marco Polo?" Dick's exasperated voice said. Wally suddenly felt a hand grab his wrist.

"Marco," Wally said.

" _Polo_ ," Dick said, yanking him hard.

Wally stumbled through the darkness, Dick dragging him the whole way. They finally made it to a hallway where the lowlights were still on, giving Wally a fraction of his vision back. Wally released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Dick finally let go of him, leading the way.

"When I went to take out the lights, I noticed a sealed elevator. If I can break through, I think it might take us to a different floor level—maybe where the more heavily secured research labs are. That might be where they're hiding the venom," Dick said.

Wally slowed to a stop. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—you didn't grab it?"

"I don't have superspeed, Wally! I can only do one thing at a time!" Dick snapped. He wasn't slowing down—until he realized there were no footsteps. He whipped around.

"The plan was for you to grab the venom—"

"And let you talk yourself out? Because that was going so swimmingly for you."

"Okay, so I don't exactly have _your_ wit and charm—but the point was to distract them so you could finish your mission."

" _I_ make the plan and _you_ follow. Remember? That's what our deal was outside."

"You don't have a plan! You're just making shit up!"

"Wally, _please_ ," Dick said, voice weary. "Just trust me."

Wally rubbed the bridge of his nose. He started walking again. Dick watched him carefully a moment longer—but then resumed leading the way.

When they got to the elevator, Dick broke through the security system to get them inside. Sure enough, the elevator buttons revealed an additional floor.

"Wait," Wally said. "We could be walking into a trap."

"What do you mean?" Dick asked.

"If this is the only elevator with access to that floor—that means they could be waiting for us. There's a hell of a lot more than just ten guards in this place."

Dick was silent, the realization dawning on him.

Wally slowly closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have interfered. I completely fucked this up by setting off that alarm. You could have done this so much better on your own, without me slowing you down."

"No," Dick said, and Wally looked at him. Dick's brow furrowed, his gaze fixated on the ground. "It was a mistake to even try to do this alone in the first place. You were right, this was… just reckless. I wanted to prove myself—but in the end, I just made everyone worried about me. Over nothing. I made enemies with all the wrong people." Dick shook his head once. In a firmer voice, he said, "But I promise I'll get us both out of here."

Wally watched as Dick's finger moved towards the ground button.

Without thinking, Wally pressed on the top floor.

Dick, seeing the blur before him, immediately retracted his hand. Wally could feel the microsecond that passed as Dick came to realize what had just happened before him.

"Wally," he said, voice dazed.

The elevator jumped, moving up. Dick turned his shocked gaze toward him. Wally diverted his eyes, shrugging a shoulder.

"You said you trusted me to help you. No questions asked. And we're already halfway up anyways, so..."

Halfway up.

And Wally still had a few things to prove.

"How much you want to bet they're going to open fire the minute the doors open up?" Dick said, grimacing.

As the elevator began to slow, Wally nodded toward the side wall of the elevator. "Wait there."

Dick pressed his back against the wall. Wally faced down the door, getting in position. Ready to run. The elevator doors opened like a gate, the sounds of gunshots sounding like nothing more than the start of a race.

Wally took off.

He weaved his way around the paths of the bullets, taking away the guns from all the guards. He moved throughout the floor, tipping over any guard he came across, all while searching for the case. He came across a locked room—deciding this had to be it, he hurried back to Dick. He dropped the speedforce, letting the bullets finish their paths. Once the area cleared, he checked on Dick, who was hugging the elevator wall, bullet holes on the adjacent surface.

"I know where it is," Wally said.

"Of course you do," Dick said, hesitantly pushing himself off the wall. He poked his head around the corner, spotting the weaponless guards that were finally picking themselves up after being knocked over.

"If you don't mind—"Wally started.

"Just do it," Dick said.

Wally grabbed Dick and ran him over to the locked room before the guards could regain themselves. Dick broke their way in, and once inside, they found themselves in a room with cases upon cases of materials.

"What do you suppose all of these are?" Wally asked, eyes falling on the seemingly endless drawers and shelves of materials.

"We can't worry about that now," Dick said. "Help me go through this room."

"Found it," Wally said a few seconds later, the room in disarray. He handed the case over to Dick. Dick popped it open, looking at the labelled green vials, and nodded in approval.

"This is the last of it. The last of the venom. Finally," he said, sounding relieved. He moved towards the nearest window, looking down. "Let's hurry. We can grapple down before they get to us."

Dick opened up the window, attaching a line from his bracer into the wall. Wally wasn't experienced in using a grappling line but falling several stories seemed like a bad idea, given what happened last time he tried scaling a building. Dick went down first and Wally followed, sliding down the line. A few feet above the ground, Wally felt the line give out. He barely landed safely onto the ground, looking up in time to see that the cable had been cut. Instead of being the one to pull them into safety, Dick reacted first, tackling Wally into a nearby shelter.

Wally hit the ground hard, Dick stumbling on top of him. Wally watched over Dick's shoulders as the bullets landed on the ground they were standing on.

"Holy shit, we almost died—or, at the very least, _you_ almost died. Not sure how fast my body recovers from bullets but—"

Wally stopped talking when Dick suddenly started laughing. Wally looked up at Dick, who propped himself up on his arms.

"Come on, this isn't fun and games—"

"It's always been fun and games, Wally. It's never changed." Dick's smile seemed to soften and Wally found himself staring. "After all these years. You feel the same way, don't you?"

Wally didn't know what to say. He just wanted to listen.

"It's stupid. It's dangerous. No one in their right mind would do what we do. And maybe part of the reason why I do it _is_ because of my parents, or my mentor, or for the symbol I wear—but the other reason why I do it is because I _love_ it. I don't want to be ordinary." Dick paused for a moment, and it seemed to Wally that Dick was looking directly into him. In a lower voice, with a sense of caring, he said, "I'm sorry for not listening earlier. For all these years. I get it now. It ate you up inside, giving up the speedforce. Giving up _all_ of this."

It wasn't a question. Wally was frozen underneath Dick.

"You said it yourself. You missed it. You gave it up so no one would have to worry about you throwing your life away—but you still _wanted_ to, even knowing what would happen."

Wally still remembered it. The speedforce fighting against him. The pains, the _hurt_. The uncontrollable shaking throughout his entire body, down to the bones, sparks in his blood, head dizzy, the emptiness inside of his gut. It terrified him, especially knowing the inevitable. Knowing that in the end, every step he took would just kill him more and more.

But the monotony of his everyday life, the stillness of his breathing, forever trapped to walk, maybe run, but never _sprint_ , the even ticking of a clock, the things he wished he could slow down but couldn't, and the things he wished he could speed by but was instead confined to—

Pretending to be normal when he had already touched something beyond that. When he had a taste of the extraordinary.

Giving up the speedforce had kept him alive but he was left with something sparkless.

From before he even knew it was possible, he always wanted to be the Flash.

"I know you do," Dick said, voice lower. And Wally didn't realize that he had been thinking this whole time. Dick slowly grinned, teeth showing. And it wasn't the appropriate place to laugh without seeming abnormal but he did it anyways, while saying, "I know—because you're just like me."

The laughter was cut off completely when Wally pulled Dick down and kissed him.

Dick stilled, body tensing. But he didn't pull away. Wally felt the slightest press against his lips—when a sound alerted them both. They both immediately turned their heads in the direction of what sounded like a heavy door opening.

"We have to go," Dick said, rolling off of him. They both got back to their feet, Dick grabbing the case. Wally grabbed him and sped toward the nearest gate. As Wally was running through their last exit, he glanced down and noticed something.

He noticed Dick was completely frozen in his arms. Eyes unblinking.

Wally's heartrate went up.

His speedforce was kicking in. Which meant his body sensed something wrong. In the same way the speedforce had picked up on Roy's arrow.

Suddenly he was aware of the heat steadily traveling up his leg. His vision flooding with light.

Panels, in the ground, at the gate.

Wally didn't think, he acted. Afraid of transferring the current to Dick, he tossed him aside, off the electric plate. The current was now up his mid spine, the hair on his body standing on end, nerves on fire, every bone from every limb to each tooth rattling, but he pushed himself to run off the plate as well.

Getting electrocuted once had sucked.

But getting electrocuted twice in the same day was _awful_.

He let the speed force drop, letting the current finish its path through his body, everything flashing white and blue and black in an instant. His knees finally buckled and he fell.

"Wally!" he heard, but Dick's voice was strange, flitting in and out. Wally' forced himself to open his eyes, saw Dick getting close. Saw the relief in his eyes when Wally looked back at him. "Today is not your day."

He reached for Wally but Wally backed away, afraid that Dick would get too close to the plate. Afraid that the current might transfer somehow. "Wait, wait, I'm okay! Just don't—"

Wally stopped, staring at the hand he held out. Watching as the limb blurred in and out of focus, perplexed. He looked back up at Dick, watching as the wind blew through his bangs, flickering between fast and normal like a skipping video tape.

"Wally, slow down," he heard Dick say, his voice sounding like something underwater, his lips moving at different speeds. "I can't understand you when you're moving that fast."

The speedforce had taken the reins—a familiar, overwhelming pain spread through Wally's body from the inside out.

"No," he said, struggling to stand to his feet, but his vision was blurring, dizziness striking him so fast and hard he nearly stumbled. He closed his eyes, his vision so maddening otherwise that he'd puke if he kept them open. "No, no, not now. Not again."

This was all too familiar.

The same illness that was damaging his body. Killing him. And it _felt_ like it was killing him all over again, his heart racing so fast it could burst, his stomach twisting and aching.

He didn't want this to happen.

He didn't want to give up.

He didn't want to go back to the way things were before.

"Wally, we have to go. They're coming after us."

Wally reopened his eyes, trying to take a step, the world seeming to teeter-totter before him.

"You have to get us out of here, Wally—"

Wally wasn't sure if he had the strength, he could barely walk. Not to mention he couldn't gauge how fast he was moving. A low frequency would feel like nothing more than a vibration, but if he moved too fast, he'd clip Dick.

Out of the corner of Wally's eye, he saw armed guards approaching.

They could shoot.

He didn't have much of a choice.

He moved to grab Dick. As his hand touched his shoulder, it felt like something snapped in his brain. Everything became clear, grounded. Wally didn't pause, he took Dick and got them away.

Wally finally slowed to a stop several miles over, setting Dick down.

"What was that?" Dick said, sounding dazed.

"I don't know what that was I… Sorry, I felt sick, I couldn't control my speed," Wally said, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Where were those stupid power bars? The overuse of his speed was finally catching up to him, hunger gnawing at his stomach. But other than that he felt… normal, somehow.

"No," Dick said firmly, a hand on his head, brow deeply furrowed. "It was weird. I—I could _see_ you."

"Impossible," Wally said, panting. "Too fast."

"No, Wally, I know what I saw! You were going fast, yes, but I could see _everything_."

"Cool. You got a burger somewhere in those hidden pockets of yours?"

"Wally, this is weird! Aren't you at all curious about what just happened?"

"One moment I thought I was going to die. Then we ran away. And now I feel like I'm going to die again. From hunger. Food. _Please_."

Dick ignored him, shaking his head to himself. "It's so strange. It's like… it's like I was _part_ of the speedforce. Like I could go fast too. It was like everything else just slowed down and instead of you being a blur, I could _see_ you."

Dick's description did sound familiar. Wally could even believe that Dick did experience the speedforce. Wally relaxed a little, trying to consider Dick's words. After Wally had grabbed Dick, his symptoms did disappear. It felt like he had passed on the part of his energy that he couldn't control.

Then Wally's stomach growled, interrupting his thoughts.

Dick heard it too. Voice flat, he said, "I'll reroute my motorcycle to our location. I think there's a rest stop a few miles down the road."

Wally gave a long sigh. "I have to ride a motorcycle?"

"Unless you want to waste the last of your energy _running_ …"

"I'd be fine if it was the batmobile. At least the batmobile is cool, even if it's _slow_."

"Hey. My motorcycle is plenty cool."

After many robbed facilities, many arguments, and getting electrocuted twice—their mission ended with them dirtied and beat up, sitting at the counter of some roadside diner.

* * *

Wally sighed heavily, sitting back on the carpet.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Barry. You're probably rolling in your grave right now."

Binders were scattered all across Ira West's study. Wally was currently up to his elbows in papers. Even with accelerated healing, paper cuts were still annoying, and Wally was ready to be done. But even after the big mess he made, he still couldn't find the parts of Barry's research that he needed.

Once Wally found what he needed, he decided he was going to digitally file all the rest of Barry's work on the Justice League computer. Barry's old school methods were past their expiration date.

Besides, it's not like he could argue.

Wally heard a faint doorbell. He stopped shuffling through the box, listening.

"Grandpa Ira?" Wally called out after a moment. "Are you going to get that?"

The doorbell rang again. Wally sighed and tried to unbury himself from the mess he created. He went to the door, seeing that Ira did answer it in time, but then he recognized who was at the door.

"Dick? What are you doing here?" Wally said, surprised.

Dick stood in the doorway. He hadn't given up the hat… but the sunglasses were gone, at least.

"Figured I'd stop by and visit. Found out that you weren't at your place and I figured you either had to be here or at Jay's."

"A friends of yours?" Ira asked Wally.

"Uh, yeah. Work friend. Grandpa, this is Dick."

They made their introductions and Ira invited Dick inside the house. As they followed Ira deeper into his home, Wally turned to Dick.

"Why are you here?" he had to ask. Dick looked a little uncomfortable.

"I… heard you went on break. I decided I'd check on you."

This was the second time Dick claimed to have come into town to check on Wally. But this time, Wally suspected no ulterior motive.

"It's not a permanent break," Wally said quickly. "It's just, after I got electrocuted—"

"Electrocuted?" Ira said, overhearing. He looked back at them, surprised.

Wally sighed heavily. "Grandpa, we've been over this. I got sick, remember? That's why I haven't been using the speedforce. That's why I'm here, going through Barry's notes—"

"I thought you were going through Iris' things."

"No, Grandpa…"

"Would you like a coffee?" Ira said, suddenly turning toward Dick.

"Oh, no thanks," Dick said, waving his hand. Ira nodded and disappeared into the other room. Dick called after him, "It's an honor meeting you, Mr. West. I haven't had a chance to read your studies myself, but my brother is a big fan of your work. If you don't mind, I'd love to bother you for an autograph some time."

"I might be able to do that," Ira called back. There was some tinkering sounds in the other room.

What the hell was he doing? Determined that Ira had gotten distracted, as he often did, Wally called out, "If you don't mind, Grandpa, I could show Dick around the house and we can chat later."

Ira came back into the room with two cups of coffee. He stopped in front of Dick, handing the mug to him.

Dick stopped and looked at it, confused. Realizing that it was for him, Dick slowly took the mug. Ira took the other coffee with him to his recliner. As he passed by, Wally looked over Ira's head at Dick, who was pointing to his cup and smiling quirkily. Wally bit back his laughter and mouthed, _just take it_.

"So what do you think is wrong?" Dick asked.

"Nothing, actually," Wally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been fine ever since—but I'm afraid it'll happen again. Grandpa Ira has this theory about kinetic energy—that with my powers, I'm able to borrow and lend energy, and that's how I'm able to move fast. That this whole time, I've been doing it passively as Flash. It's how I'm able to carry people safely even when I'm running fast—because I'm actually lending them part of my speed, which protects them."

"It also works the other way around," Ira said, speaking up from his spot on the recliner, after a sip of his coffee. His gaze seemed suddenly focused. "Flash increases his speed by borrowing from the speedforce of surrounding objects. When Wally was electrocuted, he inadvertently stole the speed of the current, and it was too much for his body to handle."

"But when I touched you, I gave that energy back. The reason you could see me was because I had lent you so much energy that you were fast too," Wally said to Dick. Dick just looked confused.

"I mean… but then all of those years of you being sick… does that mean you just couldn't control how much your speedforce was borrowing?"

"Well, no. Part of that just had to do with my body. I was getting seriously hurt because my body couldn't handle the speedforce the same way Barry's could, probably because I was just a kid when the lightning and chemicals struck me." Wally could see the questions still lingering in Dick's gaze. "Like I said, it's just a theory. That's why I want to brush up on Barry's findings—to see if I can get to the truth."

"Need help?"

They were sitting in the study together, shuffling through boxes, Dick's abandoned coffee on a shelf.

"If this theory of yours is correct… then does that mean everyone has a speedforce?" Dick asked, flipping through a binder. Wally shrugged a shoulder.

"I suppose so."

"That's pretty cool, if that's the case. But it would also mean that you're not the only Flash out there," Dick said, smiling a little.

"Yeah," Wally said, shrugging a shoulder. "But it also means that I was Flash all along."

At that, Dick stopped flipping through a binder. Wally stopped rummaging through his own box, noticing Dick's stare. Wally blinked.

"What?"

"When I first heard you were taking a break, I thought you were in trouble."

"Oh. No one's brought up the mission—"

"No, I meant like… I thought you were _hurt_."

" _Oh_ ," Wally said, surprised. "No, I'm fine. I just didn't want to take any chances, you know? Besides, after I became Flash… I kind of rushed into the job, you know? Right after Uncle Barry died. I haven't really gone through his things since his death. This whole room is his legacy and I just… sort of boxed it up."

"You are his legacy," Dick said, almost insistently. Wally looked at him, their eyes locking, and Wally felt a stirring inside his chest. He found himself remembering the last time they were together, on the mission, and Dick was on top of him and Wally pulled him down and—

Dick turned his gaze away, adding, "If your theory is wrong and you _are_ sick again, are you going to be okay?"

"I mean, I'd have to quit."

"I know," Dick said, his gaze lowering. "That's why I'm asking."

Wally's heart raced at the thought. It was a fear that had been lingering in the back of his mind. But after he thought about it, the answer came to him.

"I mean, I never thought I'd get the chance once, much less twice. And I know that in your hands and everyone else's, the world will tick on just fine without me. All in all, it was… fun," Wally said. He nodded to himself quietly, feeling more confident about his answer. "So, yeah. Everything will be fine."

"I hope it doesn't come down to that. It was kind of nice running around together. It made me remember a lot," Dick said, smiling lightly to himself.

Wally felt his ears warm slightly, that memory coming back. Dick wasn't sitting too far away. If Wally just held out his arm, he could almost—

Dick looked up at him, catching Wally's stare. Wally averted his gaze, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He picked up the box and took it to another part of the room, setting it aside. Behind him, Dick cleared his throat.

"It's weird. When we were kids, you were always the one speeding past us. But after some time apart, and then finally working together again, I realized that after all these years, I never really learned how to slow down either." Sounding a little more guarded, Dick added, "But then again, I'm not really sure if I want to."

"Yeah," Wally said, not looking back. He pondered on Dick's words, realizing the impulsivity of his actions on that mission. His voice was a touch quieter. "I get that."

He really did. But...

Wally backed up, bumping into a box that had been hanging on the corner of a desk. It tumbled before Wally realized what was happening, crashing onto the floor.

"Smooth," Dick teased lightly.

"Shut up," Wally said, bending down. He flipped over the box, throwing papers back in. He lifted a binder and then stopped.

A picture frame had gotten smashed, breaking at the corners. Wally picked it up. Pressed against the cracked glass was a familiar photo. Him, Barry, and Iris. From a camping trip up north. If Wally remember correctly, he was thirteen, and Barry and Iris were either on the cusp of getting married or just married.

He looked carefully at Iris, remembering.

 _Why can't I just live with you?_

 _Your parents love you, Wally. They just have a hard time showing it. The same way Grandpa Ira struggled with Charlotte, Rudy and I_.

"You know, at first glance, you two don't really look alike."

Wally jumped in place, startled. He glanced over at Dick and instantly scowled.

"Do you _always_ have to sneak up behind me?" Wally said.

"Come on. I've been here the whole time," Dick said. But he didn't belabor the point—he just smiled a little and took the picture frame.

"You two are related but… I don't know. Maybe it's because you're a redhead," Dick said. Wally looked at him, annoyed, but Dick suddenly grinned, holding up the frame for Wally to see. "You two do have the same smile, though."

Wally snatched back the frame. "You could have said that without pointing out the hair."

"Red hair is cute."

"Shut up," Wally said dismissively. He picked up the other half of the frame when something fell, gently gliding to the ground.

"Another photo?" Dick asked for him. Amused, he said, "What, was your uncle too stingy to buy a second frame?"

"No," Wally said, brow furrowing in confusion. "He was way too much of a freak. Everything needed to have its own place."

He turned over the photo that had fallen out and stopped.

"Who's that?" Dick asked but Wally was too busy staring at the blonde woman and the boy.

Wally, careful of the glass, puzzled the pieces of the frame back together. Watching, almost mesmerized, as Nora's image disappeared. Tucked behind Iris and Wally.

 _After Mom died, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life_.

Barry never did solve that case.

Maybe he decided there was no need to.

"Wally."

"Hm?"

Dick didn't say anything. He wasn't going to push.

"Sorry. It's just going through all these things brings back a lot of memories. It gets a little distracting."

"Yeah," Dick said. "I get that."

Over a long evening, Dick helped uncover a year's worth of binders before finally deciding to head out. Wally walked him to the door.

"Thanks for helping me."

"Well, you helped me first. Besides, it was cool meeting _the_ Ira West."

"Right. Now you know my grandpa. Nobel-prize winning physicist and senile old man."

"Don't bully your grandpa. He was not senile, he was _nice_. He signed one of his books for me," Dick said, lifting up the text that he had been holding. Wally squinted at the cover.

"Who's _Tom_?"

"What?" Dick said, stopping. He looked at the cover, horrified.

Wally snickered. "Don't worry. I can get him to sign you another one."

"Nah, this is fine," Dick decided, tucking the book back under his arm. "It'll be funnier this way."

"Be careful heading back."

"I hope you find the answers you're looking for."

"I think I might go back to being Flash tomorrow," Wally decided.

At that, Dick was surprised. "Already? But you haven't figured out what was wrong. What if you're actually sick?"

Wally shrugged. "I don't know. I'll worry about that when the time comes. Even if I follow everything by the books, who knows what could happen? I'd rather just be Flash to the end."

The worry in Dick's eyes seemed to ebb, replaced with a warmth. "Right."

* * *

Wally was walking through the Hall of Justice, a box of Barry's research in his arms. A shadow flew over Wally's head, bringing his eyes skyward.

"Good to have you back, Flash," Clark said, pausing long enough to wave.

"Thanks," Wally said proudly. "So where's this meeting?"

"Meeting?" Clark asked, floating midair, his head quirked to the side.

"Batman said there was a meeting."

"If you're looking for Batman, he's heading toward the conference room. I have a metahuman revolt to take care."

"Right, right. Don't let me hold you up," Wally said. He resumed his path, humming to himself lightly as he carried the box with him.

When he opened the door, he was in for a surprise.

"D—I mean, Nightwing?" Wally said, surprised. Dick stopped and turned towards him. "What are you doing here? You're not a member of the Justice League."

Dick shifted his weight to his other leg, crossing his arms. "You asked to meet me here."

Wally stopped, blinking. "No I didn't. Did I?"

At that, Dick looked startled. He buried his hand in his face. "Ah, _shit_. Maybe it's not too late for me to—"

"Duck out?" a voice finished for him. They turned towards the doors. Bruce entered the room, his frown seeming impossibly deeper. "I think you'll find _sitting_ to work better for you."

"Uh," Wally said, eyes shifting back and forth. Neither person looked happy to be in that room.

Bruce cut straight to the point. "Do you two have any idea how much trouble you caused the League?"

"Oh," Wally said, shrinking in place. "That's what this is about."

Dick didn't back down. "It was my plan. Flash was trying to stop me."

"Somehow, I don't buy that," Bruce said, crossing his arms.

"Hey!" Wally said, defensively. "I'm not just some troublemaker!" When Bruce turned his gaze on him, Wally took a step back. "I mean, I'm not _always_ the troublemaker." But when Wally glanced at Dick, saw the cold look on his face as he stared down Bruce, Wally found himself conceding. "I mean. It _was_ a group effort though."

"Wally—"Dick started, voice sharp, but Wally talked over him.

"I mean, it was my intention to stop Nightwing, at first. But the venom was dangerous. He was right—it had to be destroyed."

"Venom is dangerous," Bruce said. "But breaking past military security is _also_ dangerous. Interfering with military intel is _very_ dangerous. You two are lucky they didn't demand you to be imprisoned."

"Wait, so… we're not in trouble?" Wally said, blinking.

"No," Bruce said after a moment, terse. "I assured them that you both were essential assets to the Justice League. But your actions didn't come without consequence—I had to hand over Justice League intel in exchange for them to drop their charges."

At that, Wally's heart sunk, a sense of guilt weighing inside of him. The League—Batman, in particular—always tried to keep their affairs as separated from the government and military as possible. It was likely that their actions might have caused more harm to the League than good for the whole. Wally tried to look at Dick, whose expression was unfazed, but he was noticeably silenced.

"I thought we had all grown past the point where I have to _scold_ you two. It's like you're both children all over again," Bruce said, teeth bared.

"I mean, hey, if this is about that time with the batmobile—"

"I don't want to hear it," Bruce snapped, with such sudden volume that Wally quickly shut his mouth. Bruce turned his attention on Wally. "You're a member of the Justice League now. Your actions represent _all_ of us. If you're not ready for that responsibility, then you can quit. You can go back to zooming around like a teenager on your _own_."

Bruce turned to Dick.

"And as for _you_ ," he said. He shook his head, voice dropping. "You should just _know_ better."

"I didn't ask you to pick up after me," Dick said. And his voice is calm—but it's _precisely_ because it's calm that Wally feels worried. He senses the low anger bubbling underneath Dick's words.

"Then don't put me in a position where I have to make the choice."

" _Choice_? What choice did you leave _me_ with?" Dick cut in, voice rising. "An entire city gone to shit and you're so wrapped up in your pride you don't even think to _ask_ for my help—of course I'm going to go on my own, and get rid of this _crap_ —"

"I made an error in judgment, I'll admit it. But the solution isn't to go _looking for more trouble_."

"I couldn't just sit idly by, knowing what was happening. I don't regret destroying it. I did the right thing, whether you believe me or not."

"I don't," Bruce cut in. In a firmer voice, he repeated, "I don't believe you did the right thing."

Bruce's gaze flickered in Wally's direction, who had been standing on the sidelines watching the argument unfold. The box in his arms up to his nose, his eyes peeking over.

"I'm not going to talk about this here," Bruce muttered, almost darkly, and he walked off, cape flitting behind him.

The sliding door shut with a light noise. Wally stood in the room with Dick, carefully watching his darkened expression, a tense silence in the air.

Wally cleared his throat. "What a stick in the mud, am I right?"

Dick gave a long, heavy sigh. He looked at Wally for a moment, looking torn on what to say in response, but in an almost defeated voice, he said, "Do you need help with that?"

Wally didn't. But he let Dick help him carry the things to his office anyways.

When they set things down, Wally glanced up at him. He felt like he should… say something.

"Um," he said, and his heart rate spiked when Dick quickly turned to him. Deciding to just go for it, he blurted out, "Are you okay?"

"I mean. I feel kind of shitty and degraded. But I guess I'm okay."

It wasn't often that Wally felt like Dick was being honest with him. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad in that moment.

"You weren't trying to hurt anyone," Wally insisted, unable to come up with any better words of comfort.

"Well, you and Roy were both right. Thinking that I could get on his good side just by doing a mission was stupid," Dick said, smiling. Dick might have meant what he said—but the smile still felt false. Wally looked at him, expression serious.

"You did what you thought was right."

"But it wasn't right."

Wally couldn't lie. "Probably not."

"In the end, I just pissed him off."

"He'll get over it."

"You don't know him like I do. He never gets _over_ anything. If he did, he wouldn't be Batman."

"He will because he cares about you. He was worried about you. We all were. He doesn't want you to solve his missions, he wants you to take care of yourself."

At that, Dick tilted his head to the side. "This is surprisingly wise of you. You even sort of have a point."

"Thanks," Wally said flatly.

"I wish I could rectify this. I wish I could just make him understand that I only did this because I was concerned." Dick sighed heavily. "I might have acted too rashly and made a mistake. But I've seen what venom does to people. I've seen what people _on_ venom can do to _other_ people. Maybe these researchers really did want to find a way to create an antidote—but I couldn't accept the chance that they _weren't_. I had to get rid of it."

"I know," Wally said, stopping him. In a lower voice, he said, "I know. You don't have to prove yourself to me."

Dick looked at him. After a moment, he said, "Yeah, I believe we had a conversation about that." In a lighter voice, with an almost amused smile, he said, "You're right. I don't have to tell you about it—my actions speak for themselves. The same way your actions spoke for yours."

There was something almost accusatory in there. Wally narrowed his eyes, not understanding what Dick meant by that. "What actions?"

"Like you kissing me."

Wally looked at Dick, startled. Dick just looked back at him with this mysterious smirk. Wally had no idea if he was being provoked or mocked. Dick hadn't brought up the kiss at all and after the conversation in Ira's study... Face hot, Wally quickly responded, "I mean—that was—heat of the moment—"

"You're not making any sense."

"Am I talking too fast?"

"No," Dick said. "I just don't understand why you're still making excuses."

Before Wally could say another word, Dick was pulling on the back of his neck, drawing him in.

Kissing him before he could even blink.

Wally pulled back, startled.

"I thought—I mean, all those things you said. About being friends. About not knowing how to take things slow—"Wally stammered.

"I say a lot of things," Dick said. "I mean, you're completely hopeless." Wally raised an eyebrow. "And I'm not exactly perfect either. With all the chaos in our lives, this is probably a bad idea, and given your past history with relationships—"

"You know what," Wally said, interrupting. "I think I'll just take the kiss."

Dick shook his head once, making a light, amused sound. He tugged Wally in, his next kiss more heated. Mouth and teeth pulling on Wally's bottom lip. Wally was pushed back a step, legs hitting the table behind him, Dick's hands on him. Wally wrapped his arm around Dick for purchase. When their lips parted, Wally feels breathless.

Suddenly, after years of seeing Dick as that kid with the weird outfits, he understood why Dick was so popular.

"That was—more than I expected," Wally said lamely.

"I wanna see where this goes—"

"Wait, like, where this goes longterm, or where this goes shortterm?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Wait, with _me_?"

"Weird time to get shy when your hand is on my ass."

Wally barely even noticed where he placed his hands. His heart was racing, his nerves as shaky as a schoolboy's.

"But…" Wally's voice trailed off. He corrected himself. It wasn't him and Dick being together that he was worried about. He wanted Dick. But one glance around his messy office, in the middle of the Hall of Justice, was… "Right _here_?"

"Come on." Dick spoke lightly, but there was something in his voice as he whispered, "Don't make me stop."

Dick's hand made its way into Wally's, palms touching, fingers not quite interlocking but seeming to slide over both the glove and ring. With a small smirk, Dick asked, "How exactly do you take that suit off anyways?"

Wally's face heated up. He confessed, "If we were anywhere else—"

"You'd do _what_?" Dick said, in a tone that suggested he _wanted_ to know, even if Wally was rejecting him. As if just knowing would be _enough_. Dick always made Wally feel transparent, and his watchful gaze paired with his smooth voice seemed both intimidating and stirring.

Wally might have tried similar lines with partners in the past, but he never felt placed on the spot like Dick made him feel. Wally, flustered, laughed a little nervously under his breath.

"Come on. They have like… _super hearing_."

Wally's not rejecting Dick as hard as he should be.

Because he doesn't want to.

His heart was racing fast. Dick was looking at him with searching eyes, trying to read him. Trying to figure out where Wally was leaning—if he wanted to keep going or if he was just that damned afraid of being caught. To Wally's surprise, Dick started to lean away. To back off.

Wally, almost instinctively, closed his hand around Dick's wrist. Not hard, just enough to keep him there.

What would Wally do, if they were alone?

Would he desire Dick any more than he already did if they were locked up in his fancy loft?

Wally could take them anywhere in an instant but it still didn't seem fast enough. It didn't compare to wanting Dick right there, right at that moment.

To Wally's surprise, Dick instantly laughed to himself, eyes crinkling up in that trademark Grayson way. And Wally almost wondered if slipping away was a test, or if Dick was just relieved. "You wouldn't be so afraid if you just learned to be quiet, like I offered."

Dick's voice continued to draw him in. Wally couldn't stop glancing at his lips, as they formed around each breath, each word, each laugh. Wondering how they'd look, all wet and red. "I'm not a good listener."

"No," Dick said, a hint of mirth in his voice. "You're definitely not."

Dick's hands traced up his arm and Wally could feel the subtle pressure of his hands over his suit. He could imagine the feel of Dick's hands against his skin and he fixated on it, feeling his breath still inside his chest. The hand travelled further, up his shoulders, up his neck, finally yanking back the cowl. Wally let the fabric slip over his head, down to his shoulders. Felt the leather of Dick's gloves on the back of his neck, looked into the mask that covered those blue eyes.

He shouldn't be thinking about how to get Dick naked, anymore than he should be tempted to remove his uniform. But every moment they had spent together underneath some mask or disguise or shadow made the thought all the more tempting.

Like every second, microsecond, spent running around and getting into danger had built up to this. And Wally could feel the sweat on his palms and his heart racing against his chest and nerves twisting as Dick leaned in but in the end, it wasn't the adrenaline that made Wally close the gap.

It was the desire to pull Dick in close. The years' worth of longing to do things over again, to be side by side, to hold onto someone who understood him and didn't want to compete with him.

It was all Wally had ever wanted, for the same reason he put on the uniform. To just feel connected to something other than himself. To remind himself that he was still wanted, needed.

His fingers reached for Dick, fingers tangling through thick hair, holding on fast. Pulling him in deeper, lips crushed together.

Dick's lips moved lower. Down to Wally's jawline, to his throat. And they've barely started but Wally's already determined to go all the way, hands yanking on the zipper of Dick's suit. The teeth parting with a sound. Everything goes hazy for a moment when Dick sucked on his neck, hard.

Dick was ready to go too. Wally can see it in his eyes as he pulled off the mask, blues almost electrifying. He rushed back in, biting on his bottom lip, to which Wally groaned. His skin is hot as the costume finally receded back into the ring. Dick's uniform is peeled to his waist and he was pulling the gloves and bracers off when Wally noticed something.

Wally broke away from the kiss, turning his head away from Dick's chasing lips. He lifted Dick's costume, inspecting the seams in the lining.

"Pockets?"

"What, you thought I was lying?" Dick said, tossing his gloves on the desk behind Wally.

"Well, _no_ , but—"Wally was cut off when Dick forcefully pulled Wally's undershirt over his head, tugging it off.

The cold air hit Wally's chest and that was around the time he realized how fast things were moving. Dick's hands, thumbs hooked under the waistband of his remaining garments, and Wally's face warmed as they were pulled down.

Wally knew for a fact that he had never been this close to a naked man. Not that he was going to let Dick in on that, even if he probably already knew. Especially given how at ease Dick seemed, confidently pulling off his own clothes. He was naked now and the view was shocking and arousing and Wally was nearly too stunned to react when Dick's hands were on him, pulling off the rest of Wally's clothes, fast kisses on his skin, and Wally wasn't expecting the warm hand that wrapped around him but it made him moan all the same.

The back of his knees hit the desk, the cold steel against his bare skin. Dick was pushing him on his back and Wally watched, mesmerized, as Dick climbed on top of him. And Wally didn't know where to put his hands so they rested on Dick's hips. Dick's mouth was on his, lips chapped, as rough as the callused hand that pumped his cock, his tongue like velvet, mouth warm and inviting. And when the hand was removed, Wally can still feel heat pressed against his erection. Dick was already fully hard, cock heavy. Wally's jaw clenched, back arching as Dick wrapped his hand around them both. Wally's flesh responded, blood rushing into his groin as their erections pressed against each other, encapsulated in heat, Dick's hand squeezing around them both, friction building him up. More and more.

Wally felt Dick's skin, hands tracing over whatever he could reach. Strong arms and broad shoulders and hardened chest, so unlike anything Wally's touched before. Wally looked up at him—saw Dick's dark hair curtaining around his flushed face, and it was nervewracking to have this person who was so familiar to him, who he had known for more years of his lifetime than he spent without him, suddenly become so unlike anything he had ever seen before. The desire in Dick's eyes was so new, so different, from his usual cool composure. He looked lustful, eyes blown, and almost lewd in the way that his cock pressed against Wally's and his wet lips parted and sighed, and Wally's body was responding to it all. Hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and cock pulsing and heart hammering as Dick's hand squeezed a little tighter.

He pushed his hips up, rocking against Dick's erection, further into that hand, and the sound Dick made sent a hunger through Wally's entire body.

He was nervous and shaky but he also wanted Dick so goddamned bad.

He pulled Dick to his body, chests touching, mouths meeting, breaths and tongues intertwined. Dick removed his hand, trying to balance himself, moaning as Wally bucked up against him, erections pushing against each other.

Wally gripped Dick by the hips, bringing their bodies closer—and when Wally's cock brushed against Dick's ass, Dick suddenly grabbed him by the wrist, looking somewhat startled.

"Not yet," Dick breathed, voice strained. His eyelids were heavy, voice teasing, but there was unmistakable concern in his eyes. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

No. "Do _you_?"

Dick let out a breathy laugh, and just as Wally's mind was racing with questions of _who_ , Dick asked cheekily, "Why? Afraid you won't measure up?"

Yes. "Oh, come on."

Dick pushed his hands out of the way. His own hand disappeared behind his back, his legs easing open, and Wally can't see but he recognized the soft groan well enough to know what was happening. And it all felt more than a little vulgar—Dick on a counter, legs spread, fingering himself, the flush travelling down to his chest and his lips parted in soft sighs. But Wally can't look away, because this is what Dick was best at—hooking him in, making him feel that all of Dick's attention was on him.

When in reality, putting on a show was probably more for Dick's benefit than Wally's.

Fingers dug in deep, followed by a deep groan that sent a spark down Wally's spine, and Wally found himself whispering, "Are you still with me?"

Dick peered one open eye at him, lush lips whispering, "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," Wally said, because he can't bring himself to tell Dick that this was all happening so quickly. That Wally's kiss all the way back then had just been a spur of the moment thing, and while it was definitely backed up by some deep emotion, Wally still felt there was nothing to prompt Dick towards him. Nothing, except maybe some old feelings that Dick insisted he buried long ago. And a darker part of Wally can't help but wonder if all of this reckless behavior was part of another statement, and Wally was falling into the trap of being wanted so badly that he was foregoing reason.

Afraid that he wouldn't measure up after all.

Dick's breathing stilled for a moment, hips rocking back onto his hand. Wally's mouth was dry just watching him, his hands reaching for Dick's thighs, hands running up the limbs, feeling smooth skin. Dick looked down at him, blue eyes feeling warm. There was a hint of something inviting to them, something Wally can vividly recall from a few moments of their childhood—usually when Robin dropped the detective act long enough to be a kid. Long enough to be vulnerable.

It reminded Wally that it was okay for him to be a little vulnerable too.

He felt Dick tense above him as his hand inched closer towards Dick's groin, past the hip and down the curve of his pelvis, fingers brushing over his cock. Testing the warmth, the feel, the shape. Wally was rewarded with a shuddery exhale, Dick's head tilting back ever so slightly to expose his throat. There was a slow rock of his hips towards Wally's hand and Wally took him, feeling the heat against his palm. His blush spreading as Dick's moan touched his ears, the sound both sweet and vulgar all at once.

Maybe it was a show. Maybe Dick was lying and his mind was elsewhere. But the sound felt real. Dick's darkened gaze felt real.

All this time spent together, all the words, felt real. And Wally had to trust in that.

Wally was so hard it ached, the tip of his erection brushing up against Dick's ass. He pumped Dick's member, listening to every sound that slipped past Dick's lips, his former teammate's eyes closing shut as he focused in on the pleasure. Back arched ever so slightly, thighs quivering, as he was trapped between his fingers and Wally's hand. Wally bit the inside of his cheek. Dick's skin looked good enough to taste, his athletic prowess clear in the definition in his muscles which expanded with every sharp inhale. His body, riddled by scars and bulletmarks.

No super strength, no accelerated healing. No super speed.

Dick pulled his fingers out, wets them again, and Wally nearly groaned when he saw the digits slipping past wet, pink lips. Dick's body stilled, adding more fingers now, eyelashes fluttering. He was practically thrusting into Wally's hand now, his cock beginning to leak precum, pulsing and hot and desperate against Wally's hand. Wally felt desperate. He wanted to touch Dick more. He had one hand on Dick's thigh and he ran it up his leg to the curve of his ass, grabbing the flesh. Wally's gaze, fixated on Dick's face, caught a hint of teeth.

"Still impatient, as always," Dick murmured. He pulled Wally's hand away from his cock, the callused hand feeling rough against Wally's wrist. Dick knelt down, kissing Wally, warm tongue pressed against his mouth, their sighs mixing together. Dick was off of him swiftly, his body lowering itself to the ground, to his knees, face pressing against Wally's groin. Wally's hand clenched into a fist when he felt Dick's wet tongue pressed against the base of his cock. He let out the breath he was holding as lips ran up his member, up to the tip. His mouth, hot and wet, swallowing the head. Making Wally's head fall back on the surface, eyelids falling shut.

Sensation crawls along Wally's skin. Heat rising. He could feel Dick's closed mouth and tongue. Felt Dick swallow him more, inch by inch. Impossibly deep. Chin pressed against sensitive flesh.

It felt criminal to feel that good.

It felt criminal to think that Wally let this slip by him.

Dick definitely knew what he was doing.

Dick bobbed his head, one hand digging into Wally's hipbone, steadying him. Lips vibrating against Wally's cock as he moaned. Wally wondered in disbelief, somewhere in the pleasure clouding his mind, at the fact that Dick was actually getting off on this. He propped himself on one elbow, staring down at Dick's face, eyes shadowed by dark lashes and long bangs, but swollen lips still visible, stretched wide around his cock, cheeks hallowed. Wally's gaze falls further, down Dick's marked back. Sees the hand. Watches Dick as he fingers himself while he's on his knees on the hard ground, sucking on Wally's cock.

Wally's hand buried in Dick's hair, pulling him in closer. Sinking his cock further past his lips. And Dick complied, lips moving impossibly further, the head of Wally's cock breaching Dick's tight throat before Dick pulled his head back. Wally moaned deeply at the wet slide of Dick's mouth. Sucking around the tip. Massaging with his tongue. Before sinking down again, swallowing his cock deep, deeper, into wet heat. Again and again, pace controlled, his gorgeous face stuffed and long eyelashes lowered as he took Wally inside of him.

When he pulled off, Wally's entire body felt like it had been melting. Legs feeling weightless, still hanging over the edge of the counter. Dick's lips were red and he wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. Wally saw him, felt frozen when his eyes locked with Dick's, pupils blown and gaze dark. Wally couldn't recall ever seeing Dick like this.

It erased Wally's doubt.

Wally grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him in for kiss. Felt Dick's soft, wet lips against him, sore and responding lazily.

Dick's knee rested on the counter, ready to climb on top, but Wally got up first. He urged Dick onto his back instead. Wally was on the ground but he never felt more lightheaded.

Wally tugged on Dick's hips, bringing him to the edge. Cock lined with his stretched entrance. Wally waited for the quip reminding him to be patient.

It didn't come. Dick's gaze was focused on the area where their bodies met and he looked like he'd been waiting for too long.

It scared Wally to think that maybe he has. It scared him more to think that maybe he hasn't.

Wally pushed in. Dick didn't feel like anyone Wally had been with before. He was hotter, tighter, rougher. It almost felt like Dick's body was resisting him instead of accepting him, but Dick's face was flushed dark and his breaths were quickened and it all just felt the more inviting.

Wally's heart was racing fast, nerves on end, as he pushed in. Hands on Dick's knees, spreading him further. Dick's hole hugging around his cock. Wally couldn't imagine it feeling good, couldn't imagine it not hurting with every inch he sunk deeper and deeper, carving his way inside, but Dick's erection was pulsing. The head of his cock wet. And not a single of his groans sounded like a protest.

Wally's nerves must have showed. Dick's hand was on Wally's chest, grabbing his attention. Green meeting blue and Dick murmured, voice nearly a whisper but purposefully provoking:

"Just fuck me already."

Dick was vice tight around him and maybe it hurt like hell but Wally could feel his common sense snapping.

"Yeah," he said back, Dick's eyes locked on his. "You can take it."

The groan he wrenched from Dick's throat as he forced his cock the rest of the way shouldn't have felt satisfying. But it did. And Dick's body clenching and unclenching as he struggled to relax with Wally's girth inside of him _shouldn't_ have turned him on but it did.

Reckless and stupid. This is what they did best.

"If I didn't know better," Wally breathed, and it feels good to run his mouth again. It makes him feel more like himself. "I'd say you planned this."

"Planned what?"

Wally held Dick's legs in place, pulling out to the tip, a dark satisfaction growing inside of him as Dick gasped. The table rocking as he thrusted back in, cock slipping into tight heat.

"Getting fucked in the Hall of Justice," Wally managed to breathe.

"Like you've never thought about it," Dick said, voice light, and yet still so breathy. So alluring.

"I'm betting you've thought about it longer than I have."

Dick's flustered expression felt a little too real. Wally did a double-take, a strange suspicion rising inside of him, but he turned his attention back into his thrusts. Whatever Dick's thoughts were in the past, Wally didn't care about them now. Dick's brow furrowed, lips parting as Wally pushed deep inside. As deep as he could go.

"Fuck," Dick cursed under his breath, and his hand moved toward his erection, stroking it, and he looked so goddamned good. Laying on his back, touching himself, legs spread to give Wally entrance.

Wally built up his pace, watching Dick's expression melt, hips arching up to meet his thrusts. Hips moving in an almost hypnotic rhythm as he moved between fucking his hand and fucking himself on Wally's cock.

They're sweaty, flushed, hair mussed and lips reddened, and Dick has every reason to not look his best, and yet he was gorgeous—unfairly, ungodly, _gorgeous_. Dick ran his free hand threw his dark bangs, pulling his hair back, and Wally caught a hint of teeth. A smile, that didn't feel the slightest bit mischievous but it played with Wally's head all the same. It made his heart race faster and faster, driving his thrusts—

Until everything stilled for a moment. A bead of sweat rolling down from Dick's hairline, dragging across his skin. Thick eyelashes shadowing over blue eyes, paused in mid-blink. Everything going quiet, Wally watching as Dick's ribcage slowly contracted as he gasped silently. And usually when things went fast, Wally was too focused on a single task. It was hard to find moments like this, moments that he felt like he could actually hang onto, and Wally was so mesmerized that he didn't realize what he was doing at first.

There was a click inside of Wally's head and he snapped out of it, everything accelerating back into place. Dick's eyes opened wide, his voice finally reaching Wally's ears. Wally's heart raced faster. He convinced himself that it was just a second that he had slipped into the speedforce—that maybe Dick didn't even notice—but there was no denying the blunt nails that suddenly dug into his forearms.

" _Sorry_ ," Wally said, nearly stumbling on the word when he saw Dick's startled expression. Dick's grip on him loosened.

"Fuck, Wally, you're gonna kill me," Dick said, head finally falling back on the desk. And Wally wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or the breathy way that Dick spoke that caused the warmth on Wally's face.

"I'm sorry—it just happened," Wally said, words fast and thrusts slowing.

"Don't apologize," Dick said, shifting underneath him. Bringing their hips closer. "Do what feels natural."

Despite himself, Wally laughed. "But what if I kill you?"

Dick wrapped his arm around Wally's shoulders, pulling him in.

Wally was learning that Dick was the type to smile in his kisses.

"You're not going to kill me," Dick said when they parted. At that, Wally's heart skipped.

Dick was always hard to read. But he seemed almost a tad too insistent.

"What?" Dick murmured, noticing Wally's smirk.

"Is this your way of asking for more?"

Dick's blush darkened, faltering to answer.

It wasn't often Dick was caught off guard.

Wally loved it every time.

Wally grabbed onto Dick's hips, lifting his lower half off the counter. Angling him so he could control his thrusts better. He pushed in, not holding back, heart pounding in tune with his thrusts. Dick's body arched up, mouth falling open. Wally wasn't completely lost in the speedforce. He didn't want to be. He wanted to hear every sound he pulled out of Dick, the moans fading into gasps and whines as the entirety of Wally's length vibrated inside of him. Wanted to feel the speed in which Dick's whole body clamped down—nails digging into his arms, hole clenched around his cock.

It felt like Dick was tying him down. The setting no longer mattered. It was just them, exactly as they were, and Dick's desperate gaze felt so tender that he almost looked defenseless. That his walls had completely disappeared.

It was the heat of the moment. The adrenaline. Wally's hand moved toward Dick's hard-on, fingers vibrating against his flesh, and Dick gritted his teeth in response, face reddening.

"Wally," he gasped, and he didn't last much longer. He was coming, hot seed spilling on his stomach and onto Wally's hand as he was brought to orgasm. And Dick's voice grew, higher and higher as Wally fucked him through it. And Dick was clenching onto him so good, the volume of his voice so loud that Wally was fairly certain super hearing might not be necessary at this point, but he didn't want it to end. He stroked Dick's member until his hand was finally forcefully yanked away. And he still moved, still fucked him through it. Dick's face was red and there was a sheen of sweat on his hairline and his eyes were wet. His moans were almost forlorn when he finally gasped, "Wally, I _can't—_ "

It didn't matter. Wally was finished. He buried himself deep inside, pressing Dick hard into the desk, and finally came. Heat rushing through his body, tremors dancing through his body. Coming inside of Dick, filling him, warmth surrounding Wally's cock.

And when their breaths finally settled, and Wally finally pulled out, and their heartbeats returned to normal, Wally finally muttered, "Gross."

The corner of Dick's mouth quirked up and he laughed once.

His voice was light underneath his breath, teasing, "Your face was _so_ pink."

"What?!" Wally said, snapping out of his exhaustion.

"I think it's the most color I've ever seen on you—"

" _Stop_. I don't want to hear this!"

Dick just laughed, ignoring Wally's embarrassment. Wally let him laugh. He rolled over, sitting on the edge of the desk, trying to catch his breath.

They stayed there for awhile, trying to calm down. Wally sitting on the edge, Dick laying back on the desk with his head propped on the wall.

"Do you suppose someone heard us?" Dick mused lightly.

"Were you hoping someone would?"

"We'd be in so much trouble."

"I thought you liked trouble."

"Wally."

"Hm?"

"Don't say it like that."

Wally glanced back at him. "Say it like what?"

"Say it like those were the only reasons why we did it."

Wally was taken aback. He wasn't sure how to read Dick's focused gaze.

He suddenly felt nervous. "I mean. That's not why I did it."

"And it's not why I did it either. You know that."

Dick spoke so honestly but Wally still wasn't sure when to trust him. Wally hesitated to respond and Dick filled the silence.

"Wally, when are you going to stop worrying that you're not good enough?"

At that, Wally felt stunned. "Did I say that?"

"You didn't have to," Dick said, making it sound just that simple. Around Dick, Wally always felt that simple. "Maybe you could be a better businessman, or a better boyfriend, or a better son, or a better Flash. There's probably a lot of room for improvement. But…" Dick trailed off, lost in thought. But then he smiled lightly, the color of his eyes brightening. "No one's perfect."

"Thanks, it's always good to hear that I'm not perfect," Wally said with light sarcasm. He paused when Dick sat up, sitting next to him. Wally stopped, feeling their shoulders touch.

"The point is, this didn't happen because I'm sad, or because I wanted to fuck you in the Hall of Justice, okay? I did it because I wanted _you_."

Dick's eyes are soft, relaxed. A strange calm washed over Wally, almost like relief. The pacing of his heart slowing down.

When Wally didn't respond, Dick just smiled lightly.

"And if you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you. Over and over."

* * *

Wally paused long enough to take in his surroundings.

Sound had slowed to a dull hum, only interrupted by the sound of his own heartbeat. Everywhere around him, things were falling. Chunks of concrete. Bricks and steel. A shadow passed over Wally's head and he looked up, gazing at the giant steel monster that was destroying his hometown.

Through the buzz, Wally caught a familiar sound. Time accelerated back to normal and he listened.

"Flash! Behind you!"

Wally was tempted to keep his gaze on Arthur, who was seconds away from stabbing a giant robot with his trident, but he followed the king's orders. Behind him, Diana had a giant pillar propped on her building, stopping a stunned teenager from getting crushed.

Wally zoomed in, picking up the kid and carrying her away. Diana finally released the pillar, letting it collapse to the ground. As he was setting the girl in a safe spot, he heard a voice through J'onn's telepathy.

 _Flash, I traced where the signal is coming from._

 _Give me the address and I'll be there, B-Man._

 _Don't call me that_.

Wally followed Batman's directions to a suburban area outside of Central City.

 _Hey, you sure this is it_? Wally asked, but he must have been outside the range of J'onn's telepathy, given that there was no response. Wally hurried up the steps, ignoring the dachshund that was leashed in the yard and barking at him, and knocked on the door.

An old woman answered. Her mouth fell open. "Oh my goodness, you're the Flash!"

"Uh, yeah," Wally said, peeking over the old woman's head. "It's me, the Flash. Fastest Man Alive, Keystone's hero, the Scarlet Speedster, yada yada. Hey, we got a _strange_ signal coming from your house. Can I take a look inside?"

"I don't see why not," the woman said, stepping aside. Wally zipped around her house, careful not to knock over any china cabinets or porcelain puppies. "Though I don't understand what the problem is. It's just me, my grandson, and Snickers here."

Wally stopped. He opened a door, looking at the stairs leading into a basement.

He quirked an eyebrow.

He headed down the steps, catching a young man in front of a long series of computer monitors.

"Oh, this is just _precious_ ," Wally said, leaning against the railing. At the sound of his voice, the guy jerked up, accidentally knocking back his computer chair. He stared, wide-eyed at Flash, before booking it toward the window. Wally rolled his eyes—why did they _always_ try to run?

Wally caught up in less than a second, yanking the scrawny man back a step.

"Don't think you can win me over with your cute wiener dog and super sweet grandma who looks like she makes the world's best cookies. You don't get to raid my hometown with robots and think you can get away with it," Wally said, barely putting in an effort to keep the nerd in place.

The grandmother, who followed Wally into the basement, scowled. "Toby, what did you do?"

"Nothing, grandma, I swear—"

Wally tuned out the arguing, catching a few images on Toby's monitors. The guy clearly had an ego problem—every image was a different news station reporting on the Keystone attack. But Wally's gaze was fixated on one particular image. In the chaos of the robot attack, people had started looting, and Wally recognized one thief in particular.

Wally turned back to see Grandma waving a slipper at Toby threateningly, and interrupted the argument.

"We got to go."

The robots had stopped without Toby's control over them but the Justice League was still trying to fix the damage that had been caused. Wally dropped Toby off at the feet of Batman.

"Here you go, gotta jet—"

" _Flash_ , you can't leave. We need your help here."

"I know but—people are stealing, and on the screen I saw Captain Cold, and—"Wally was waving his arms around and it didn't occur to him that maybe he was speaking too fast.

But then Bruce just said, "Fine, go. The League will take it from here."

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," Wally said and he sped off, to the same location he spotted on the monitor.

He was just a minute too late. The bank was smashed and emptied with no trace of Leonard Snart. He zipped around the area, trying to find a sign when—

Off in the distance. In a crowd of screaming people. A hint of blue and white.

Wally sped towards it. He saved the small talk. He pulled the cold gun out of Snart's hands and knocked him to the ground.

"Strawberry Shortcake. Fancy meeting you here," Leonard growled into the concrete. "Thought you'd be busy in Central City. Heard those robots did some nasty things to the Flash Museum before crossing the bridge."

"I figured you showing your ugly mug in Keystone again was far more offensive," Wally said, he glanced up, made eye contact with Keystone police. A few officers pushed through the crowd of people, moving in closer.

"You really think you can put me in Belle Reve? You really think you can _stop_ me?" Leonard said, snickering. Wally finally got off of him, long enough to let the officers cuff him. Wally watched, eyes narrowed, as Leonard was pulled off the ground and dragged toward a police car. Leonard struggled back, needing to throw his last insults in Wally's direction. "Quit wasting your time, kid! You can throw every single rogue in prison ten times over—and you'll still never measure up. You'll never be the Flash."

"You mean I'm never going to be _Barry Allen_ ," Wally corrected. "But the Flash? That's exactly who I can be."

Wally watched as Captain Cold was safely locked into a police car. Wally heard a voice.

 _Flash, we need you back downtown. There's a building coming down and we still need to evacuate the street_.

Wally turned his head, seeing the leaning building on the horizon.

 _I'm already on it_ , he responded.

Everything was slowing down.

And his heart was only beating that much louder.

* * *

 **A/N** : This story turned out to be a lot longer than I expected and I appreciate all of you who took the time to read it. Thank you so much!

If you want to follow me elsewhere, I also post stories on AO3.

My tumblr is: lacemonsterbats

My twitter is: lacemonsterbats

I'm also currently accepting fic/writing commissions. For more information, check out my tumblr.


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